


A Gift

by bushybeardedbear



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: April the 3rd was a long time ago..., F/M, Gen, Humour, Romance, Season 3 or 4 ish but kinda it's own reality, Suspiciously Earth-Like Activities Despite Being In Space Because Voltron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-25 00:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14965538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushybeardedbear/pseuds/bushybeardedbear
Summary: The Month of April creeps up on our Paladins. One struggles to come to terms with still being so very far from home. Another only wants to comfort her and so hatches an elaborate plan... Lance would deny it, but he does have another very good reason he's keeping badly hidden from everyone, especially himself, for trying to find just the right gift...Season 3/4/AUish





	1. Fools Day

**Author's Note:**

> [AUTHOR’S NOTE: This fan fiction was intended to sit somewhere between the events of seasons 4 and 5. Certain events in season 5 somewhat invalidate it in the Core Reality of Legendary Defender, namely Pidge finding her Father. Whilst I prefer that my fan fictions feel at least vaguely possible in the Core Reality canon, there are potentially infinite alternate realities. I guess that’s what this is. Also, this was supposed to be out in time for April 3rd. Oops. Missed that by just a bit. Real world stuff, multiple stories on the go, way too much editing and the ever-present foe of procrastination. Hope you enjoy regardless! In addition, now that Season 6 has ended... I guess I'm encouraged to finish this even more...]

 

** Fool’s Day**

It was supposed to have been soft mountains by now. Instead it stubbornly remained a white lake. Sugar, eggs and a good whisking. Simplicity itself you would assume, to turn such a simple set of ingredients into their desired form. Of course, being in deep space in a part of the universe that Earth probably can’t even _see_ much less have a name for makes the procurement of ingredients somewhat difficult. Sugars are simple enough. Common throughout the universe, much to the dismay of the dentists of the universe. Eggs though, chicken’s eggs. Knowing the _exact_ chemical composition of an egg would be tricky. It’s not something you usually take with you on the average night out. Even if that potentially average night out ended up with an adventure in deep space, few people will ever have the forethought to take along such an oddly specific bit of data _just in case._ It was of course, far trickier to try then to explain your best guess of the chemical composition to a multiple millennia old machine whose primary language is far more complex than your own. The task was made more difficult again factoring in having to work through a translator who only _partially_ understands Earth himself. The translator who in turn tried to relay his fragmented understanding of your best guess to said machine. To put it simply, making an artificial egg substitute was _pretty quiznaking hard_ and Hunk was almost at his wits end. The fact the mixture - which was now mysteriously turning purple and starting to smell distinctly of feet - provoked a low groan from the Yellow Paladin. He hurled the latest batch of failed meringue into the waste disposal with an outward breath of frustration, turning his attention to his current helper, an Altean whose splendid moustache curled with his smile.

“What’s the Earth expression?” Coran offered with an upbeat tone, “Third Time’s the charm...?”

Hunks tired expression sank further, “You must have _really_ lost count, Coran…” He groaned, “That was already the eighth attempt…”

“Oh, I know that!” Coran still beamed, “But that means that the next attempt is nine. The _third_ third attempt! That must be like...the charm squared! Cubed even! There’s _almost_ no way we can screw up this time!”

“I’m going to take a break, Coran...” Hunk groaned once more as he took a heavy flop into a nearby seat. He stared at the ceiling, wondering if somewhere in the cosmos he might somehow, some way, chance upon another chicken-like species. It seemed possible but knowing the universe…they’d either shoot jets of boiling acid, be allied with the Galra or both.

Coran nodded, stretching himself out and clicking a few joints in the process, “I’ll just have a little jog then, grab me once you’re ready to get _cracking_ again! Ha! See, little _shell_ humour for you there…” The Altean gent broke into a sudden jog on the spot before taking off into the corridor.

Narrowly avoiding a collision, Lance shot Coran a confused expression before returning to an oddly introspective one. Seemingly lost in thought, the once Blue now Red Paladin looked uncharacteristically downbeat as he slowly made his way into the kitchen, perching alongside Hunk.

“You look just like a freshly kicked puppy...” Hunk’s joke not even provoking a smile, “So what’s up man...?”

Lance shuffled uncomfortably, an obvious expression of anxiety on his normally placid features. “I’m not sure that I’ve got my Altean time to Earth time right... But, today’s April right...?”

Hunk nodded, “Yeah. April 1st, and I think either the computer or Coran must be playing me for a fool…” Hunk could still almost taste the foot scented meringue. “We’ve been gone for a lot longer than it feels some days... And some days it feels like a long _long_ time... So, you’re homesick. That it...?”

“No, well, yes but...just a little...ok _a lot_ …but never mind that…I just know that... Well, there’s…someone who’s got it way worse than I do... I just...I... I can’t get this out right…”

Hunk needed to do a double take just to make sure he was seeing this right. An already nervous Lance wasn’t just struggling with his words he wasn’t even making eye contact, and was he...blushing? “Oh! You must mean Coran and _Allura_ I suppose...?”

Lance shook his head, “I guess they do have it worse after all... But I don’t even know how you’d _start_ trying to help someone whose planet is gone... Not even sure if _this_ will help someone whose planet is just really _really_ far away now I think about it... Actually...” A fake smile on his face, Lance stood to leave, “...thinking about it, this whole thing is probably a _really_ bad idea...”

As Lance began to retreat, Hunk spotted something curious shoved into his friend’s pocket. A roll of obviously heavily scrawled upon papers, most of the rolled length poking free. With a swift motion, Hunk nabbed the roll and began to examine it. He chuckled softly to himself at the hasty scribbles and Lance’s famously awful handwriting. “Oh Laaaance...?” His tone a teasing song, Hunk turned to his friend with a smug smirk.

Lance stopped in his tracks, immediately reaching for the now empty pocket. He spins himself around, a look of fear on his face. His eyes rest on the unfurled papers, “H-How much of that have you read...?”

“I can barely _read_ a word of it...” Hunk grinned, “But you kindly provided illustrations...is this what I think it is...?”

Lance looked away, “I guess that depends. What do you _think_ it is...?”

“Ambitious, considering the time frame we have... A less positive person might call it impossible… Maybe you could have been a little quiznaking _quicker_ coming to me…?” Hunk sighed.

Lance nodded, “I know... I _know_ … I’ve just been… _way_ overthinking this…”

“That doesn’t sound like you…” Hunk chuckled, before his tone and expression turned serious. “There’s also the very real chance that this could all backfire... You do get that…right...?”

Lance pouted, “I just wanted to get it _right_ … And also, I was embarrassed to ask, ok? Can you blame me…? And yes, it may still screw up… But I guess if that happens then I can just take all the blame for it... Right? Easy to blame the stupid moves on the team goofball…”

“Lance, grab a shuttle, go to the space mall. Find something techy. Something green, maybe. Just don’t waste your time with anything _too_ cute. And don’t bother with a dress. She _will_ burn it. Probably.” Hunk continued to examine the plans, “It really would be _so much easier_ , y’know? I figured that’s what you’d do anyway... Probably you’d get a few extra things _just in case_ you weren’t sure of getting the exact right gift…”

Lance furrowed his brow, “How’s that…? You’re kidding right? One, we have like zero ZAX… Two, between the great Kaltenecker caper and the emptied wishing fountain, how are we ever getting back in there…?”

“GAC.” Hunk corrected, “Galra Approved Currency… And did you forget _we went back already_? First stop on Coran’s round the cosmos Voltron Show…?”

Lance nodded, “Yeah, right…” He shrugged with a nervous smile, “Still doesn’t help with a lack of GAC…”

Now it was Hunk’s turn to look nervous, “ _Well…_ ” He laughed, “See _technically_ you’ve got quite a bit of GAC to your name… We _all_ do… After the Voltron Show’s initial run, there’s still merchandise being sold, home recordings on some worlds, streaming services on the more advanced ones, a few still have syndication… Coran says there’s even a planet taking the fight scenes, dubbing over us, adding in their own actors and calling it _Super Taskforce Go-Lions_! I’m kinda looking forward to seeing that…”

Lance was growing impatient. “Why is this the first _I’m_ hearing of any of this!?”

Hunk smiled as innocently as he could manage, “Coran’s _exact_ words escape me… Something about _responsibility_ and _a lack thereof_ came up in the conversation… But, I’m sure he’ll be happy to let you spend a _little_ … And if not, I’m making a little on the side from Sal’s sales…”

Lance was bewildered but set aside the newfound knowledge for now, “Look, space cash is great and all. Being able to actually get her something cool is…it’s _ok_ … But I don’t know, if it feels like _enough_... I just know how hard it is for her right now and... Even if this only works for an hour or two... I just... I don’t know...”

“Nah Man, _you know_...” Hunk examined the papers more closely, “You’re worried about a friend, they’ve been distant, quiet...more so than usual anyway...we’ve all noticed it Lance. We’ve _all noticed_ how worried _you_ are about her as well... To be honest I think you care a _lot_ more than you realise...”

Lance shrugged, “It’s not like _that_ Hunk...”

Hunk pointedly examined the plans in his hands, “ _Riiiiiight_... I’m sure...”

“No, seriously!” Lance insisted, “I mean, sure... I _care_... I care _a lot_ , but this isn’t some attempt at...y’know...”

Hunk looked to the plans again, “This _isn’t_ you trying to _hit on her_ …?”

“Right...” Lance confirmed, “That’s _not_ what this is... And honestly, I really don’t want it to seem that way. She’s down and I want her to smile... Hunk, she’s just a friend of mine...”

“Yeah, I bet she tells herself that same lie...” Hunk mumbled to himself, “Alright Lance. Sure. I can help with all this, but we’re going to need more than me. We have...wow, less than two days to get it all ready... I know I already said this, but you _really are_ cutting it pretty fine... At the very least, you need to speak to Allura... Coran’s always good as an extra pair of hands. Shiro will probably need to know if only to keep everyone’s story straight... I mean, it’s supposed to be a surprise, right...?”

Lance looked even less comfortable with every word Hunk spoke. “Maybe I _should_ just stick with a bought gift...fire those plans into a star or something... I don’t _want_ everyone to know about this... Especially if they all get the same idea as you...about it being some cheesy pick up attempt…”

“What’s this I spy?” Coran cheerfully asked, jogging in as his first lap around this floor of the castle ended, “Is there some benevolent conspiracy afoot? Or perhaps... Does Lance know how to make eggs? Can Kaltenecker make _them_ too?! What part do we need to tug on for _that_ to happen...?” His paled expression straddled the line between terror and curiosity.

Lance moved to grab the plans from Hunk, only to spot at the last second the tumbling cylinder of papers thrown like a baton to the waiting Altean. Unfurling the plans, Coran began to tilt them at various angles and distances from his confused face. Finally, a smile sneaked onto his features, as he turned to Lance, “Well, isn’t all this _sweet_ of you, eh lad...?” Lance’s obvious embarrassment was steadily turning to simmering frustration. “ _Ambitious_...” Coran echoed Hunks earlier sentiment, “I reckon that everyone pulling together could get this all arranged in time... Though, I don’t see any _meringue_ in the plans...?”

Lance gave Coran a suspicious look, “Why would there be any meringue...? Pidge hates the stuff... Says it’s a waste of perfectly good sugar...”

Hunks face darkened, “ _Now_ you tell me... How can anyone _hate_ meringue?! And how the heck has that even come up in conversation with you two...?”

Lance shrugged, “I guess we just talk about a lot of stuff on game nights… And usually we have _a lot_ of game nights… Where do you think I got all these ideas from...? Anyway, it’s not like she hates the _taste_ of the stuff just, I dunno…the _idea_ of it...”

“Right, because a _conceptual_ hatred of meringue makes so much _more_ sense…” Hunk whined.

“Probably need to make sure the Blue Lion wouldn’t have a problem with this... I can’t really imagine Lance’s old partner being against it…she probably already _suspects_ … You know, now that I think about it with that whole _psychic link_ thing, those poor lions must see a lot more than they might ever want to... Just imagine all the _stuff_ coming out of your human minds… Your human _teenaged_ minds…” Coran thought out loud, shuddered a little. “We’ll definitely need to speak to Allura....”

“If you must speak with me, then this is indeed good fortune.” Allura announces to the room as she enters, “Are we all here to see how Hunk fares with his newest batch...?” Her eyes fell upon the anxious wreck that was once called Lance. He was trying to hide it, despite his crossed arms, furrowed brow, concerned expression and his nervous shifting from foot to foot. “Lance? Are you alright? You look as though a Byrean Colon-Crawler is dancing badly within you...”

“More like _butterflies_...” Hunk teased.

Before Allura could express her confusion at the Earth expression, she looked to a set of scrawls handed to her by Coran. “This is… _most_ difficult to read…”

Lance swallowed hard, glaring at Hunk, “Why don’t we just invite the Blade of Marmora along to help as well?” He hissed, “Maybe show that to the whole _Coalition_ to get their help as well...?”

“It is not _quit_ e so ambitious that we need call upon _all_ of our allies, Lance...” Allura reassured him, “Though I must confess, I am surprised to see as much thought and care put into this. Your writing is _truly_ awful, but your kindness is moving...” Her expression soured suddenly, a single eyebrow raised, “I assume it is purely _kindness_ that motivates you in this case...? There is no... _Lance_ kind of motivation?”

Lance’s blush deepened, “Why does everyone keep assuming that!? And what do you mean, _Lance_ kind of motivation!? There’s more to me than just a guy who’s after girls! Right…?”

Silence.

Lance sighed, “No. There is nothing like that going on, Allura. No hidden plan, no _Lance kind of motivation_ … I just want to do these nice things for a _friend_ who is having a hard time of things right now...”

“Wait a sec, who _else_ is having a hard time...?” A stern commanding voice asked from the corridor, Shiro walking purposefully into the dining area. He looked to Lance, reddened in the face and obviously distressed, his expression softened. “I see. Would it help to talk about it, Lance? We’re all here for you.”

Allura handed Shiro the notes, “Hunk assures us that Lance is suffering only with butter that flies. Whatever that may be. This should help explain matters.”

As Shiro scanned the notes, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face, Lance felt his stomach turn in knots. “Your handwriting _really_ sucks...” Shiro finally said, “Seems like it’ll be tricky to pull everything off... _ambitious_....” He continued, “Oh and just so we’re clear...this isn’t some attempt to...well... _woo_ a certain someone...?”

“Woo, Shiro? _Woo_? Come on man, you’re not _that_ old and nobody says _woooooo_ anymore except for moaning ghosts in kid’s stories...” Hunk groaned.

Lance gritted his teeth, “No. For the last _quiznaking_ time, this isn’t supposed to be anything like that. I just want to cheer up my _friend_ who’s feeling really down right now...”

Shiro made an uncertain expression, “Even considering this...last part...?” He lifted a page for the crowd to look at, drawing their attention to a smaller part of the doodle away from an elaborate though simplistic diagram. There was a quiet murmur of “ _aww_ ” from all but Lance and Shiro as they looked at a blue stick figure with one arm around a green stick figure. “Did you just forget to draw on the little _x marks_ …?”

“It’s called _comforting_ , Shiro.” Lance clarified, despite his embarrassment being obvious, “Not making some kind of move, _no x marks_ , just a way to _comfort_ someone... That goes for the rest of you as well...”

Shiro smiled knowingly, “Alright then. Our roles seem pretty clear to me. We only have two days to get all this right. Allura, have a word with Blue, not that I expect Lance’s former Lion will object to helping out with a _totally platonic gesture meant solely for comforting a friend_. Coran, star charts. Once you’re done with that you and I will gather up some spare parts, hopefully we can find something suitable. Hunk, that leaves you here. There’s a lot to do and almost no time to do it. Everyone up to it?”

The room, aside from Lance, responded with an energetic shared “Yeah!” before peeling off to their assigned duties.

Shiro looked to Lance before leaving, gesturing that Lance should follow. The two walked into the corridor, Shiro keeping conspiratorially quiet until he was sure the two were out of earshot from the kitchen. He turned very seriously and very sternly to Lance. “I need to be clear on something. I need you to be 100% honest with me, Lance.” He was firm but steady, “You do _like_ her, don’t you? And please don’t try to be smart, you know what I mean by _like_ in this case...”

Lance was right back to be squirming and uncomfortable, barely able to look at Shiro, sighing deeply in an attempt to gather himself, “Ok, Shiro... Look…” Lance breathed deeply in and out, “To be 100% honest with you...I’m... I’m not really 100% _sure_ … I mean, I _know_ that I care about her...I care a _lot_ about her... And she’s... Well… You know…” He paused, Shiro s gaze urging him to continue. “Come on, man…” But reluctantly he obliged, with a quiet mutter, “She’s _cute_ alright? She’s really _really_ cute...”

“I see... Well, be that as it may, but she is also the daughter and sister of two very close personal friends of mine...” Shiro reminded him. “Close personal friends who would be very concerned for her well-being. In their absence, I share that concern. She deserves better than to be a _passing fad_ to someone. Although she’s more than capable of taking care of herself, I would prefer she not _have to_. Especially among fellow Paladins...”

“I get that...and you don’t have to worry... I could never hurt her. She’s like a best friend to me... I’d be too scared to lose that, scared she’d feel betrayed... Like she’d assume all those nights spent helping her unwind gaming were just...well, me being a different kind of _player_. But that’s not true and I’d hate her to think that way about me... I guess I just don’t even _think_ of anything _else_ ever being possible... And then there’s the war, the team... _Matt_ would kill me, her Dad would kill me once we find him, even seems like _you_ would kill me now too… Look, whatever this is… I know it’s probably better left alone... So, that’s what I do…”

Shiro paused, silently considering everything Lance was saying, very carefully. “I believe you’re being sincere Lance, but I’m not sure how all of that fits in with how you are around Allura...or the female population of the rest of the universe for that matter...”

“It’s just bravado, man...” Lance shrugged, “It’s _safe_ , y’know...?”

Shiro frowned, “I’m not sure that I follow. It has _literally_ left you in danger before.”

“Sure, but... it’s safe because... I’m not scared of _losing_ some girl I just met that same day. I’m not really bothered about being _turned down_ by them either... I even kind of _expect_ it…” Lance found himself looking away, visibly frustrated to be telling anyone this, “As for Allura... Look, I _know_ I don’t really have a chance with her. I don’t think that I have a chance with _any_ girl really...but it’s fun to pretend, right...?”

Shiro shook his head, “That is ridiculous, Lance. You’re a good man. Maybe if you were less Lance the over the top _act_ and more Lance _yourself_ the results would be different? Maybe you’re not space prince material, but… Are any of us, really...? Would we even _want_ to be...? Coran is over 600 and he still looks what, 40, 45? When you think about an Altean lifetime, a human lifetime doesn’t even come close. Would that ever be something anyone in that situation could accept...? Would it be fair on any human? Would it be fair on Allura...?”

Lance nodded, “It sort of sounds like you’ve given that more thought than I ever did...”

Shiro’s expression was unreadable, “I guess so. But listen to me, Lance...lacking confidence, and I mean _real_ confidence, it doesn’t suit you. There’s a big difference between the kind of role you play as and the kind of _real_ sense of self-worth you _should_ feel. The crazy thing is, you have _every reason to feel confident in yourself_. _You don’t need_ to go seeking a dose of self-worth from every alien female on every mission. You know that though, don’t you? You called it _pretending_. You know deep down that the act is hollow, unfulfilling. Lance, I know that you deserve a lot better than that.” Before Lance could object or pull away, Shiro took him into a firm hug.

Lance was silent. Stunned. He was used to being corrected, disciplined and generally chewed out by Shiro. He was used to being supported, knowing he could rely on Shiro as a friend and as a teammate. For the first time though, he felt as though he was genuinely _loved_ by Shiro. Loved like a close friend, like a brother, like a Space Dad, like his family who were so far away on Earth. He fought back a struggling lump in his throat and a stinging at the corners of his eyes. “Thanks, Shiro...” His tone wavering.

“Ok now…” Shiro pulled away, placing a hand to Lance’s shoulder, “None of that or you might just set me off... Lance, you are _not_ any number of extra unnecessary wheel. You are _not_ our weakest link. The only person who thinks any of that bull is _you_. You prove more and more every day how capable and dedicated you are. I’ve felt privileged to watch you grow before my very eyes. Allura may be the heart of Voltron, but as far as I’m concerned, _you_ are the heart of our team. Goofball perhaps, but I think laughter helps keep us all sane...” Shiro cleared his throat softly, “Now. That said, we all have things to do. Assuming we can _decipher_ your scrawls and hieroglyphics. Naturally, I’ve left you with the most important task of all. Running distraction.”

Lance nodded, felt the uncertainty return to a warmth in his chest, a smile on his face. “I won’t let you down.”

Shiro patted him on the back as he walked off, “More important than that, McClain...don’t let _her_ down.”

* * * * *

The quiet was an illusion, a _really_ bad attempt to hide. No sounds coming from her room wasn’t a great sign, everyone knew that. The clatter of keystrokes, the smell of soldering, even the soft sound of instrumental music were good signs. The illusion of silence meant that a single sound was being hidden. It was a sound Lance hated to hear from anyone, especially when he was powerless to help. If he listened carefully he could just make out the shuddering breathing, the whimper of pain. That was precisely why he _didn’t_ listen carefully. He knocked softly at the automated door. There was a short, shocked intake of breath from within.

“Pidge...?” Lance said softly into the metal door, “Feel like some company?” Silence responded. “Ok, fine...” He laughed, “You caught me. _I’m_ the one who feels like company. Thought I could hide out with you while Shiro puts everyone else through extra training. If anyone asks, I sprained my ass. Sounds believable, right?”

An almost silent sniff, “I’m...” A small wavering voice responded, before it became more stable, “I’m...not dressed.” It sounded just a little like a hasty lie.

“Ok, I can wait...” Lance responded, “You’ve been cooped up in there since breakfast. Huh. Pidge. Cooped up.”

Her frustrated sigh, he knew it well, “Did it not occur to you that _perhaps_ there’s a reason that I _want_ to be left alone, Lance...? Could you maybe just... I don’t know, just _do that_...? Please...?”

The Red yet still fond of blue Paladin pressed a hand gently to the door, knowing full well it would be locked from within. “Of course I know that, Pidge. That’s why I’m worried. That’s why we’re _all_ worried... But if you really want to be left alone... I guess I’ll just come back in…a little shy of a varga maybe...?”

That same sigh, now followed by a groan, “There’s a difference between _persistent_ and just being a _stubborn ass_... Fine, if I’m not getting rid of you, just hold on...”

Lance heard shuffling, the rustle of sheets and the soft slap of feet against the hard floor. The door opened just enough for the irate face of Pidge to poke out and for Lance to tell the room was completely dark. Her hair, usually unruly, was now a mess of random tufts and curls in every conceivable direction. Her lips were likewise curled into a clearly frustrated grimace. The frown wasn’t quite as cute as the bed-hair. The worst and best part all at once were her eyes. Usually they were hidden behind a pair of decorative glasses, but not so now. Their subtle shades of brown, amber and gold all the more obvious, striking and just plain _beautiful_ as her pupils contracted against the light of the hallway. Yet also, the tell-tale redness in the whites, soft pale skin irritated by rubbing, hastily dried stains, the gaze drifting away. Lance felt his heart sink in his chest, his hand twitching for a half second as he thought better of reaching out to embrace her.

“Well...?” Pidge’s soft question hung in the air, “I’m alive. Just tired. Satisfied...?”

“I think you need some distraction...” Lance felt the heaviness in his chest twist as he fought against it, “Must be some project you’re working on...? Maybe you could bounce ideas off me...?”

“Sure thing Lance. How about we talk about superluminal communication methods? Any ideas on that?” Her tone was spiteful, the anger rising at each suggestion. “How about a _really big aerial_ so we can get a decent Wi Fi or radio or Bluetooth signal? Or Telegraph? Tele _gram_? Carrier Pigeon? _Message in a bottle_ maybe...? Semaphore!? _Light the fires for Rohan..._!?”

Lance looked sadly away, “Alright, point taken I guess...” He found himself leaning on the door in resignation.

“I’m sorry...” Pidge heaved a sigh, turning from his sad expression, “I just...” She pushed a panel letting the door slide open, Lance half tumbling in. “Damn it Lance, why do you do this...? _How_ do you do this...?”

“Do what...?”

Pidge couldn’t meet his eyes, “How do you _always_ make me let you in...?”

The room lighting slowly turned to a dull glow. Pidge took her hand from a holographic display by her bed. She was dressed in a baggy pair of green boxer shorts, a white vest a size or two larger than she needed and her green lion slippers. Slowly and carefully she stepped over a few piles of junk, grabbed her duvet and tossed a pillow at Lance. Catching the soft object wrapped in a forest green case, Lance caught the faintest scent of a fragrant shampoo. He couldn’t place it exactly, but it was somehow sweet, warm and familiar.

“Nowhere to really sit...” Pidge remarked, rolling her duvet onto a small patch of clear floor beside Lance. “Fart on that and you will suffer a wrath untold by any saga...”

He smiled kindly, shuffling himself closer beside her, propping himself upon the pillow. From above his head, a pair of Space Caterpillars curiously cooed from their perch atop their oddly familiar seeming climbing frame. “So…you’re homesick.” Lance said simply.

Pidge nodded, “ _Wretched_ homesick...” She confirmed, “Doesn’t help that my...” She fell suddenly silent. “Never mind...”

Lance already knew what she meant. Despite her keeping it from everyone on the team, Shiro thought he had remembered and Matt had confirmed his suspicion about a week ago. April 3rd. Pidge’s 16th Birthday. Millions if not Billions of Light Years away from home, her Father still missing and her Mother alone in an empty house. Lance knew it all. Had heard her muffled sobbing too often, felt powerless to do anything on the other side of the door too often. Now, sat beside her, he still felt equally powerless. Just as one barrier falls another takes its place. “I get it...” Lance reassured her, “We _all_ get it... Some days we just think of it more than others... Try to put it aside, try to pretend it isn’t real... Other days, reality catches up with us...” He found himself trailing a finger over the forest green duvet. “It’s weird, the things you take for granted...it feels like it’s been forever since I last just sat on some _real_ grass. Ate something that I could pronounce or tell you where it comes from... Saw someone in the street I wanted to avoid... Even getting ticked off by that one song they won’t stop playing this week... Things you never expect you’d miss...”

“Garlic.” Pidge nodded, “Dad...whenever he tried to cook, whenever Mom _let him_ that is… He’d always either drown out the other flavours in garlic or barely add enough to be able to taste it. There was never a middle ground... But I miss his garlic Russian roulette...”

“Man, now I’m missing garlic too...” Lance whined, “I haven’t had a garlic knot in...I’m not even sure how long it’s been...”

“Pretty sure you’d like my Mom’s...she bakes them with a little molten pocket of mozzarella... Touch of fresh...basil...” Lance heard the crack before he saw the tears, “She’s all alone Lance... Dad, Matt and Me... Mom watched us all just...disappear from her life... For all she knows...we could...be...” With not quite a shudder and not quite a snarl, Pidge turned her head away. “I think I want... No, I _need_ to be alone now...”

Lance was hearing none of it. He closed the space between them, taking Pidge gently in his arms.

She bristled, tried to shrug him away, she began to shudder, sucking back unsteady painful gasps. “Please... Lance...”

“Let it out.” Lance whispered as he pulled her closer, resting her head to his shoulder. He placed a hand to her head, gently soothing her, “I’m not going anywhere...” The scent of her shampoo was clear now. It was Coconut and Mango, or at least the closest chemical approximation the castle could produce. In an instant, Lance’s memory brought him to warm white sand, clear blue water, the calm of the crashing surf. A kind smile he hadn’t seen in such a long time. “Quiznak...” He murmured, the first tears already tumbling, his body already shuddering. He rested his head against Pidge’s, the scent was so close to a hazily remembered shampoo his mother had sometimes used. He would smell it when they hugged. He didn’t fight the tears any longer.

Pidge couldn’t hold back either, between his insistence, his warmth, his own tears running hot to her scalp, she felt her will falter and her wall once again collapse. She sobbed hard into him, grasping him tight into her arms, tears flowing freely with every shuddering choked breath.

How long they cried for, neither was sure. Though it came in bursts of intensity, some so overwhelming they threatened to crush a spirit beneath them and others a vague numbness sucking out all but the ache of despair. By the end of it though, each turned to the other, tear stained cheeks already drying. Eyelashes still slick from the last of the tears, eyes and faces ruddy. The ache of their homesickness was far from faded, but they were just too exhausted to cry any longer. Blinking her eyes together to clear her blurred vision, Pidge offered Lance the smallest and slightest attempt to smile. Even though he could still see the pain in her eyes, Lance found solace in that smile as he returned it. It may not be a fact right now, just an unspoken promise. _We will be ok._

“I’m sorry...” Lance blurted, unable to find any other words.

Pidge looked to him in silent confusion.

“See, I came here to make you feel _better_...” He explained, “And instead...” A fresh wave threatened, a single shimmering gem of pain rolled forth. With a swipe of a gentle thumb, it was gone. The sensation of her touch was sudden, unexpected, calming, wonderful in a dizzying surge of emotion.

“It’s ok, Lance...” Pidge whispered, holding Lance close once more, “Usually, I feel ashamed to cry... Like it makes me _weak_ for giving in to the pain... Everyone else around me just seems to cope...”

“Just masks...” Lance sighs, returning the comforting hug, “We let them down when it’s safe... Crying is nothing to be ashamed of...everyone needs to now and then... And believe me, all of us do… But, I do want you to try something for me. Can you try?”

Pidge nodded against his shoulder, “What did you have in mind...?”

“When it hurts the most, promise that you won’t shut me out.” Lance stroked her hair gently, “I’m right down the hall. Well, I guess we’re _all_ close by...so it doesn’t need to be _me_ exactly, but I do have the Gameflux... And I...” Lance considered his next words, a little scared to admit it, but still, “I won’t _ever_ turn you away. Day or night, whatever. I will _always_ be there for you... I promise...”

Two space caterpillars, one green, one blue, cooed happily above them.

Pidge seemed to freeze in his arms for a moment, as though the world was in the middle of rebooting in her head. Her lips seemed to silently waver for a moment and with a tiny whisper, replied, “Copy...and paste...” Lance felt the heat of her blush, as she wrapped her left pinkie finger to his right, “That sounded a whole lot less lame in my head... What I mean is... I’m there for you as well... I won’t shut you out… I even _pinkie_ promise...”

Lance felt his heart lift, “Fine. I Pinkie promise as well... Pidge, mi casa es tu casa...” He daringly, softly added, “ _Mi_ … _cariño_...”

Pidge lifted her head, giving him a sideways glance, “My Spanish isn’t perfect, in fact it’s pretty non-existent… But I get the distinct impression I should be a little _concerned_ about that last part... Right?”

Lance shrugged, smiled.

“Well, I’m guessing your Italian is much worse...” With a playful smile, Pidge said in a lilting and soft tone, “Lance, sei duro come il muro...eppure...potrei guardarti tutto il giorno. Sono pazzo a di te...” Realizing what she had just said, Pidge lightly blushed and found herself very much hoping that Lance hadn’t been hiding another language in his repertoire.

Lance just tilted his head in confusion. “Yeah, not a clue...” Though a stunned smile crept to his face. “Still...I think I could listen to you _read the phone book_ in Italian... _wow_...”

Pidge rolled her eyes, shoving him a little, “Enough. Besides, where would I even _find_ a phone book outside of a museum...? I think I want to do something a little more fun. How would you feel about an afternoon of being my punching bag on Cogs of The Sinful X5?”

Lance smirked, “Been practicing with Kysol. You don t stand a chance.”

Pidge shook her head, “Practice all you want. You’re strictly scrub tier until you learn to frame count...”

* * * * *

Pidge of course was not wrong. Lance was soundly trounced, round after round after round. He was however also fiercely competitive and refused to quit until he had at least secured a single victory. Even a single _round_ of victory would do. He was even at this stage willing to take denying Pidge a Perfect as a very minor moral victory. A very minor moral victory which he was far more often than not denied. His frustration was being somewhat lessened however by the growing smile and excitement from the girl beside him. She was, perhaps, a bit of a bad winner. Smug, mocking, posturing with each win. It reminded Lance a little of himself, except Pidge could back up her boasts with genuine ability. A flash of a glowing smile and the sparkle of her eyes made Lance feel like his chest melted into a warm puddle of contentment. There _she_ was again, her spirits lifted, the girl he knew he was falling for. It had crept up on Lance slowly, before he even realised he was feeling it, there it was. Unbidden, unheralded, unexpected. Unwanted, perhaps, if only because it was so sadly impossible to ever act on it. To risk losing their precious moments together forever wasn’t a possibility he even wanted to imagine. Still, he kept falling deeper. No, in fact he had already _fallen_ deep and he knew it. So badly and so deeply fallen that he dared not admit it, rarely even to himself and never to her.

“Screen’s that way, Lance.” Pidge mockingly nodded toward it, “At least pay attention as I pummel you... Do I have something on my face or what?”

“Just the best smile in the sector...” Lance said nonchalantly, as he turned back to the battle. Pidge’s flow had momentarily broken. Lance was able to sneak in _three entire hits_ which may in fact have been a personal record. Pidge still mercilessly beat his ass, even performing an absurd combo of 80 odd blindingly fast hits long after Lance’s health bar was depleted.

“That was cheap.” Pidge grumbled.

Lance snickered cheekily, “It _almost_ worked though...”

Pidge remained unimpressed, “It’s one thing if you’re just being _Lance_ and throwing around lines like you do with everyone else...but that...” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter...”

“You understand that I can tickle the truth out of you, right...?”

“Try it and you get a Bayard in some very delicate areas...” Pidge threatened, “Lance, what you said there... It just caught me off guard. I’m not really used to getting that sort of remark off you...or _anyone_ really…” Though it wasn’t just that bothering her. It was that the remark sounded _genuine_ rather than a well-rehearsed pick up line, like it was just a casual statement of fact.

“I’m sorry...” Lance smirked, “I guess I should just make _more_ remarks like that... Get you used to them…?”

Pidge decided it was best to ignore him, she wasn’t feeling particularly patient enough to deal with this kind of teasing. “Considering how much training you must have missed, by now, I’m shocked that no one’s come looking for you...”

Lance didn’t take long to find a suitable excuse. It was one of the few extracurricular skills he had picked up in his years in education, “I told Coran I’d pulled a muscle in my...” He glanced downward to his crotch and wolf whistled, “It’s the kind of thing nobody would want to come and check up on.”

Pidge smiled, “Well, you got that right, based on your track record... _Nobody_ wants to check on that...”

“Ouch.” Lance gripped a hand to his chest, “You really know how to cut a guy deep... Point is, we’re pretty much guaranteed to have all the time we want to ourselves... Though, I guess I am getting a little hungry...”

Pidge went to adjust her glasses, realizing with slight embarrassment that she had left them in her own room. “We should grab some lunch then…” Correcting herself as Lance showed her the time on her own borrowed phone, “Ok, _dinner_ then… Lost track of time… I need to drop by my room anyway...”

Lance realized that could be a problem very quickly. Chances were high that Hunk would still be hard at work on his appointed tasks in the kitchen. “You’re still in your PJs Pidge, let Lance care of it. You just relax, ok?”

The being waited on thing seemed suspicious, but she _could_ get used to it. She’d let it slide. For now. “Fine. See if you can find my glasses in my room. Touch _nothing_ else. I _will_ know. I’ll see if I can find a game where you stand a chance against me... There’s bound to be something among the 86,000 odd ROMS that provide a suitable handicap for you...”

“Well, thank goodness for your pirated software having some use...” He goaded.

“ROMS have been a perfectly legit way of video game archiving since the 20th century.” Pidge rattled off her usual defence, “Really, you should respect me as the curator of such an awesome museum.”

Lance nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I guess you are pretty awesome...”

He left through the automated door, leaving Pidge to contemplate his words. Another case of honesty, a casual statement of fact. Maybe she was just reading too much into it. Seemed likely. Math, Science, the fundamental forces of nature and reality, all child’s play. Dealing with human feelings and emotions...not so much. Better just to avoid them entirely. Just distractions after all. Stupid distractions. Stupid _smiling_ distractions. Stupid _smiling_ , stupid handsome, stupid blue eyed...utterly _infuriating_ yet undeniably adorable _stupid_ distractions... Flopping her back to the floor, Pidge exhaled deeply. “ _It’s just a dumb crush_ , _Katie_. You know that... That’s all it _is_ , all it will _ever_ be and all it ever _was_...” She whispered. Six curious little eyes meet her gaze from the far corner of the room. Sometimes she wondered if the Altean mice could phase through solid walls. Given everything humanoid Alteans were capable of, it wouldn’t have entirely shocked her. Their twitching ears and growing expressions of joy seemed to suggest an unavoidable fact. The mice had heard her little attempt to convince herself. They know. Distracted. Stupid. Careless. “ _Quiznak_ …”

Platt began to strut and pose, puffing out his ample chest and preening his yellow and green fur. The grin and finger guns he directed to Chuchule were almost spot on. Meanwhile, with an unmistakably haughty pose, the pink mouse and object of Platt’s pantomime of passion, turned in exasperation away from the overt displays of posing, grooming, smiling. Chulatt, forepaws crossed over her fuzzy blue chest fur glared at the two before angrily tugging at Platt’s tail. Platt of course remained oblivious as Chulatt walked away and silently fumed. Their act finished, the three took a bow.

Pidge couldn’t decide if she should be impressed or embarrassed. She opted for a combination of the two. “Ok… Guessing you won’t believe, _April Fools_ will you…?”

The mice looked momentarily confused, before shaking their heads.

“So, what is your silence going to cost me…?” Pidge sighed. “And don’t get any ideas, by _silence_ I mean you may not speak, psychically communicate, mime, interpretive dance or make any other form of communication about this topic to _anyone or anything in the universe…_ ”

The mice huddled together, chittering softly. They all nodded as one before standing in a line smallest to largest. Platt mimed holding an object between his forepaws, offering it to Chulatt and Chuchule. Each of the two smaller mice mimed taking something from between his paws, exaggerating bites and contented smiles.

“Hunk’s cookies.” Pidge guessed, being answered by affirmative chirps, “Ok… How many…?”

Returning to their line, all three held up their open forepaws for a short while, each of their eight little digits wiggling. Chulatt then scampered to the end of the line, making a fierce expression and standing as tall as she could, also opening her paws wide.

“Eight each, not forgetting Plachu. Fine. You guys realise that’s 32 right…?” Pidge felt her heart sink.

The three looked to each other thoughtfully. They nodded before they all at once sprawled onto their backs and extended their hind paws as well, doubling their order in one fell swoop.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me…”

Platt, a smug grin on his features as he stood, simply shook his head.

“And how long do I have…?”

Chuchule shrugged, tapping at a mimed watch impatiently. Chulatt made an impatient gesture of shooing Pidge. The three fell about with squeaks of laughter.

Pidge grimaced. Wonderful. Now she had to secretly put in an order without bumping into Lance on the way there or back. Comms were too loud. Too easily overheard, _especially_ if Hunk was in the kitchen. She turned to a ventilation grate. Ideal, if perhaps a little bit space dusty. Still, this wasn’t her first time in the vents. Hunk would most likely be in his room or failing that the kitchen. Easy enough route to take. Clambering up and inside with a well practised manoeuvre, the grate opened easily to her deft hands. “Note to self, seriously consider a space cat…or a whole _army_ of space cats…”

* * * * *

Lance had barely stepped into the corridor before his jeans were being tugged at by insistent little paws. A tiny figure scurried up and along the fabric, hurling itself to his jacket and finally coming to rest on Lance’s shoulder. Fierce - yet somehow still cute as a button - eyes fixed Lance in a cold glare. Plachu extended an authoritative paw, emphasising it with what was probably supposed to be a low and commanding squeak. Though Lance had to stifle a laugh as the critter attempted the feat.

“Allura send you?” Plachu nodded sternly, “Ok, fine little guy. I just have a few stops to make first…” The space mouse frowned, “Awwww…” Lance gently bopped the creature on it’s nose, “You’re _so_ scary…” Plachu’s whiskers twitched in miniature fury.

A short journey along the corridor led Lance and his new passenger to Pidge’s room. The door allowing him passage, much to the surprise of Plachu. The mice knew far more than perhaps they _should_ about the private lives of the Paladins. The sort of things that even the mischief making spies knew better than to reveal. Until now they had only seen one person granted free access to Pidge’s empty room, the Green Paladin herself. Even the mice had to be _allowed_ in after their usual vent access had been blocked. Yet Lance seemed to be one of two people on the automated door’s _allow_ list. Plachu made a mental note to gossip about this with Allura later.

With a curious cooing, Pidge’s pet Space Caterpillars turned to Lance as he entered. “Don’t worry you two, just looking for a pair of glasses…” The green and blue space creatures looked to Plachu, gesturing to their perch with a twitch of their bodies. The green caterpillar shoved the smaller cylindrical top section around, the junk depicted face of the statue meeting the mouse’s perplexed expression. As Lance hunted, Plachu hopped from one Lance to another.

Regarding the Junk-Lance with growing curiosity, Plachu gestured first to the statue and then to the searching Paladin. The caterpillars, partially hovering, dipped their bodies down as if to nod, their normally expressionless eyes lighting up as if in relief. Plachu squeaked loudly, startling Lance.

“What’s up little guy, you find them?” Lance’s brow furrowed as Plachu’s squeaking grew louder. The tiny creature thrust its arms toward the Junk-Lance insistently, even fiercely, then back again to him. Lance’s response was a simple, “Huh…?” Plachu’s gestures and squeaks, already quite furious only seemed to double in intensity. Even the two space caterpillars began to gesture their stubby legs between the Lances. Scratching his head, Lance returned to a pile of promising looking junk.

Comforted by the gentle touch and soft chirruping of the Space Caterpillars, Plachu face-pawed.

The oblivious Lance meanwhile had finally found the spectacles, placing them upon his face. He had expected to be hit with a wave of nausea as the world warped, but quickly remembered that they were purely for decoration. And Pidge claimed she had no sense of _accessorizing._ “I look smarter, right?” His grin was particularly and deliberately goofy.

The three creatures nestled on the Junk-Lance glared silently back.

“Has Pidge even given you guys names yet…?” Lance directed to the Caterpillars as he clambered over what seemed to be a Jenga tower of mismatched and mangled machinery. The two creatures turned their bodies slowly from left to right, mimicking a shaking head. “Seriously? Ok… How about Blue, you can be… Little Lance. Green, Petite Pidge… Those sound ok…?”

The two caterpillars looked a little confused, a little less than impressed. Plachu meanwhile reluctantly hopped back onto Lance’s shoulder. “Ok… I guess that _would_ be a little lame…” Lance’s tone was apologetic, “I’ll give it some more thought…” A sudden flash of inspiration struck, a snippet of what for most would be a long-forgotten moment of childhood. Just a random science lesson about Radioactivity. It may have stuck with him for any number of reasons, though it was _probably_ because the substitute teacher the school had brought in was a _fox_ and even a much younger Lance knew it. Thinking about it, she was _also_ a fiercely intelligent brunette. Pointing first to the green caterpillar, “Marie.” And then to the blue caterpillar, “Pierre.”

The two creatures, now named, turned to each other. They began happily chirruping and glowing their approval. “Nice.” Lance grinned, “Now I need to get you guys a collar each… I guess that’s one gift idea…” Sensing their uncertainty, Lance reassured them, “Don’t worry, I’ll find something stylish and comfy for you guys…” He gently ruffled their silken fur, provoking happy little peeps from each before leaving the room.

Plachu tugged at Lance’s jacket, urgently urging the boy forward. “I said a _few_ stops… Food goo calls…” Lance adjusted Pidge’s glasses and smirked down at the grumbling space mouse.

* * * * *

Hunk was familiar with almost every noise the kitchen made. Every shrieking nureek, every errant squirlookal, every clang, clatter, rattle and bang. He had even grown quite used to the machine that goes _bing_ that he was sure did very little indeed. Given that there was nothing being steamed, pressure cooked or even placed in a _bain-marie_ – at least not _yet,_ that was stage eight of recipe 12 according to his flow chart – he was quite confused where the hissing _pssssst_ had originated from. He looked about curiously, flitting from dish to dish as he did. An almost overwhelming aura of clashing sweet scents vied for his attention. A caramel was busy turning brown, a chocolate substitute quivered, the freezer quietly hummed to itself with that tune that only freezers and fridges know. That same _psssssst_ again, this time louder and more insistent, followed by a rhythmic tapping from above him. “ _Hello_ …?” Hunk asked the vent above him.

“Finally!” Pidge’s voice responded, her eyes flashing in the gloom of the ventilation system. “Listen, I can see you’re busy… I can _smell_ you’re busy… What are you even making…? Smells amazing…”

“Not busy!” Hunk almost squealed, whisking a mixture even as he did so, “Not making anything! Your nose _lies_ to you!!” The panic was settling in. Secrecy was hardly his forte.

Pidge decided not to press further, “Hunk, I really need a favour…”

Already hassled Hunk’s face was a mask of acceptance, “S-Sure thing!!” He stammered and bleated, “I’m not busy with anything, so a favour is fine!! Sure!!”

“It’s a big ask…” The ventilation system echoed with her nervous tone, “A _huge_ ask probably… But, I’ll wash the dishes for a month… _Two months_ even! I’ll even give The Yellow Lion a wax and polish! Whatever crazy thing you need, I just need this favour _super badly_.”

Hunk, scurrying over to a pot of caramel gave it a stern glare, “You burn, you will regret it…” He warned the confection with a low growl, “Ok Pidge!” Hunk said as loudly as he could, trying desperately to summon help, “Pidge in the vents! That’s fine! I can do that thing you’re asking, _Pidge in the vents_!!”

Pidge was starting to wonder if Hunk had finally cracked. Cracked or not, he _had_ already agreed… _So…_ “Thanks buddy! That’s 64 of your sugar cookies! I need them pretty quickly too! Just drop them off in my room! Don’t let me down!! Thanks!!” Before Hunk could offer a protest to the vent, the rapid metallic thumps made it clear that Pidge was most of the way gone already.

“ _Quiznak_ …” Hunk seethed.

Lance arrived outside the doorway. A table had been set up, blocking the entrance. A polite note asked that nobody interrupt Hunk _on pain of death._ A slightly friendlier arrow pointing to several pre-pumped bowls of food goo and a haphazard pile of sporks. Maybe it was the barricade and the note. Maybe Hunk’s scowling, sweating features. It may have been the chuntering tirade of _Quiznaking Quiznak_ repeated over and over again. Maybe it was a combination of them all that led Lance to believe that leaving without a word was best. Clutching bowls and sporks, Paladin and Mouse held their breaths as they quietly sneaked away.

* * * * *

Allura’s impatience and feelings of slight awkwardness were growing. She had run out of topics to talk about that were small. Weather had been mentioned more than once. She had exhaustively gone over as much of the plans as she could read. She smiled politely to the open communication hanging above her. “I am _sure_ he will be along shortly…” The Altean Princess assured for what felt like the third or ninth time.

“Take your time…” The dreamy and distant tone of Matt responded. “I could spend the day here…” He grinned hopelessly and stupidly. Allura meanwhile was not blind to the second person in frame, stood toward the back of a rather dilapidated looking room among a jumble of boxes and containers. Nyma’s look, her _glare._ If it could kill, it would have laid waste to several worlds by now.

“Not as though we have a _resistance_ to deal with…” Nyma’s complaint fell once more onto deaf ears.

The silence lingered. Allura’s smile wavered. Matt sighed softly. Nyma silently fumed. A second before Allura was about to mention the weather again, the silence was broken by the sound of a door hissing open. Plachu, chittering fiercely, had taken to using the two sporks to spur Lance onward.

“Thank the stars…” Allura mumbled beneath her breath. “Alright! It’s been lovely chatting we simply _must_ do so again at some point!” Allura sometimes cursed her royal upbringing. Despite that being the correct, _entirely appropriate platitude_ to use in this situation, the gobsmacked look on Matt’s face implied he had taken it to be a much more personal invitation. Even as she walked away, she could still feel eyes both gazing and raging at her. “Lance!” She said perhaps a touch too happily, “I’m so glad that you’re _finally_ here… It seems Matthew would like a word! I have much more to do elsewhere!!” Allura gave Lance a brief quizzical expression, smiled to herself and quickly departed.

Lance swallowed hard, gently placing the bowls of food goo to one side. Plachu clattered the sporks alongside them before scurrying together with the already retreating Princess. Hanging above Lance like a malevolent Oz, Matt’s expression suddenly turned deadly serious. With a nod, Nyma removed herself from the room. Lance and he were alone. Lance smiled kindly. Matt did not. The younger boy shuffled uncomfortably in the older man’s gaze. Matt tapped a finger to his left temple. Lance continued to just nervously smile. Frustrated, the elder Holt drew a rough shape about his eyes, his expression growing sterner. Lance blinked. He remembered what he was wearing. With a quick flourish he removed the Holt spectacles placing them softly beside the food goo bowls. He smiled back to Matt, nervousness turning to a distinct fear, Lance was sure he could feel himself sweating.

“Well.” Matt’s stern and sudden first word felt as though it would make Lance leap from his own skin. It was only with a supreme effort of will that the nerve-wracked younger man prevented himself from shrieking. Matt’s expression was not entirely unlike a combination of a doctor examining a wart and a sniper steadying his breath. “Princess Allura tells me you’ve sparked quite the _ambitious_ undertaking for a certain _special day_...”

Lance nodded mutely.

Matt nodded back, “Going through some of the details with her, I was quite… _Surprised_ shall we say. Surprised at the lengths you seem willing to go to. Whilst you kept us _both waiting_ , I had the time to have a little chat with Shiro as well. He assures me that I’m just… _overthinking_ …”

Lance found himself blinking rapidly. He was certain that was sweat he could feel now.

“That I’m possibly being…a little _over protective_ …”

Lance’s heart began to pound against his ribs. It probably wanted to run away as much as the rest of him.

“You’re an older brother yourself, so I suppose you know where I’m coming from…” Matt’s tone was icy.

This time the nodding from the paling Paladin was far more rapid.

“Tell me, Lance…” Matt’s scowl darkened, “ _Just what are your intentions toward my little sister…_?”

Facing down an entire Galra fleet with nothing but a stick seemed a better option than this right now. Hands and fingers shaking, sweat now less a suspicion and more a close personal friend, heartbeat pounding upward to a rapid rhythm that would probably be considered too much for even the heaviest and most deathly of metal. Lance took a deep breath in through the nose, slowly out through the mouth. “…” That was supposed to be words, but instead it was a muted squeak. Lance cleared his throat, “I… Just want her to _feel better_ …”

Matt’s expression softened by a very small degree. A metallurgist might say it had softened from a Tungsten right down to a Titanium. A _very_ small degree. “Go on…” Matt prompted.

Lance’s shoulders slouched, “Pidge has been having a hard time of it… _Wretched homesick_ she called it… All this time searching for you, _still_ looking for your Dad after all this time… And hard as she tries, every attempt at super luminous communication seems to fail…”

“Super _luminous_ …?” Matt regarded Lance with a confused expression, “I assume you mean _superluminal_ as in _faster than light_ … Something to help her get in touch with people back on Earth…?”

“Right, that’s it…” Lance agreed, “I’ve lost count of all the ways she’s tried…”

“She’s worried about Mom…” Matt sighed, “Can’t blame her. I’ve been trying to find a way to let Earth know we’re ok as well. Something the Galra can’t trace… It’s… Well, I won’t waste my time going over the _specifics_ of it with you, but I’m sure you can see from Pidge’s efforts that it’s not easy…”

“Yeah…and she’s no good at taking breaks…” Lance ventured, “Which I guess only makes it harder…”

Matt actually _smiled_ now. Lance felt his stomach turn a somersault, “She never _was_ good at that… Gets totally absorbed in her work, right…?”

Lance’s smile was part relief and part fond memories. The number of times he’d had to act as food delivery for the younger Holt, always met with a solid resistance at first. Then just before leaving, after she gives in, being rewarded with the sight of her content and re-energised. The sight of her thankful smile. “That she does… Lost count of how many forgotten meals I've had to take to her...” Lance realised his tone sounded just a little too distant and dreamy a little too late.

“That so...? I’m surprised you even get close enough to give her a meal. Pidge can be _pretty_ territorial at the best of times. She’s several factors worse mid project…” Matt shook his head with soft sigh, “You can’t be _that much_ of a jackass if she isn’t chasing you away… And she lets you wear those glasses… Assuming you were _allowed_ …” He seemed thoughtful now, reflective, “Maybe this whole thing will be a much-needed way to help her unwind a little… Maybe I _am_ just overthinking and being over protective…”

“Any chance you can make it?” Lance asked, hoping at last that the conversation might become a little more pleasant. “Pidge’d be happy to see you.”

Matt shook his head sadly, “Can’t. Stuck mid-operation over here, not exactly in a position to easily extract ourselves… Why else do you think I’m just _talking_ to you…? If I could _be_ there _I wouldn’t be worried_ …”

“I’m sure Shiro will fill in for you. Maybe chaperone or _assassin_ …?” Lance only half joked. “If you can’t be here, do you think you’d at least be able to drop a message…? Maybe I could get something, put your name on the tag…? Or not, I guess… I don’t know…”

“You’re babbling.” Matt silenced him, “Yes. Shiro _will_ fill in for me. Count on it. And I’m counting on him being both if necessary. Though, against my better judgement, I’m not exactly sure it _will_ be…” Matt smiled, “I’ll try to get in touch on the day… Nice idea about the gift, I suppose… But I’m not sure that I trust you to get something I’d be happy to put my name to…”

“That photo of you and Pidge needs a frame…?” Lance ventured hopefully.

Matt’s expression turned bemused and thoughtful, “I guess it does… So I suppose you’ve proven me wrong. That _is_ something I’d be willing to put my name to. You’re not _as much_ of an idiot as I suspected… Clearly there’s more to you if Pidge considers you her friend… I would hate to see her trust in you betrayed…”

Lance nodded, “If I ever did anything to hurt Pidge, you’ll be _fourth_ in line to kick my ass…”

“Pidge would, then Shiro would, then me…” Matt concluded. “Who else…?”

Lance pointed to himself, “Me. I’d be _first_ in line…”

Matt rolled his eyes. “She is right about one thing… You really are a _hopelessly_ cheesy goofball…” He grumbled, “So now we’re on the same page, I’ve been at this far too long already…”

“Hold up a sec!” Lance interjected, “You’re… _Italian_ , right…?”

Matt blinked then stared confused to Lance. “Last time I checked, yes…?”

“You think you could… _translate_ something for me…?” Lance asked hopefully.

Matt looked at him pityingly, “I think you’re reading this situation a touch wrong, Lance. If you think I’m helping you write some kind of a _sappy poem_ …”

Lance laughed a little, maybe a _lot_ nervously, “Yeah, good one… But I just wanted to know what this _insult_ was…” He paused, thoughtful, before repeating a hazily remembered earlier conversation. “Say do-row come in moo-row...” He paused again as he tried to recall the rest of the statement.

“Your pronunciation is _horrible_ …” Matt shuddered, “But, basically she was calling you dumb as a brick wall.” He laughed softly, “Bet it sounded a lot better _before_ you understood it, right…?”

Lance sighed, “Yeah, figured it’d be something like that… Not sure I _want_ to know the rest…”

“There’s more?” Matt seemed to beam, “Well, now I _am_ interested, Pidge’s insults can be _savage_ …”

Lance shrugged, thinking maybe this could help break some of the remaining ice between them. Worth a shot. “It was something like… He-pour-ay _portray_ guard-arty two-toe eel-lay jaw-no… So no pants-oh ah dee tay…” Lance looked very pleased with himself, that feeling quickly fading as he saw Matt’s sour and unimpressed expression, “Guessing I butchered the pronunciation again, right…?”

“If your pronunciation was meat, then even starving dogs would turn their noses up…” Matt sighed heavily, “As for what I _think_ you just said… I get the feeling I should really have a polite word with my little sister…”

“Woah there!” Lance protested, “If it’s really _that bad_ then don’t get too mad at her, ok? How was I supposed to know she was swearing like a trooper…?”

Matt rolled his eyes before cutting the communication off with a heavy press to the screen.

Lance wasn’t sure if what had just happened went very badly or very well. Or a measure of both, with no certainty of the greater share. He was however glad it was finally over. He flopped himself to the floor like a rag doll, allowing himself a heaving breath of deep relief. It was only now that a pin from earlier in the conversation finally dropped. “Wait… Pidge talked to Matt about me…?”

* * * * *

“I talk to Matt about _everyone_ …” Pidge’s expression was inscrutable, her eyes hidden behind her glasses and the glow of the screen. This wasn’t exactly a lie. She just needed to downplay how often she talked about Lance. About how he infuriated her and _nothing else_. She took an absent-minded nibble on a sporkful of food goo. “I talk to him _more_ about how my projects are going… But of course, I need to vent to my family from time to time… When he’s not deep in a mission for the resistance… But, why were _you_ talking to him…?”

Lance shrugged, “Allura was mid-way through a conversation with him anyway, so…”

“I see…” Pidge sighed, “Asserting your _territory_ again…” With a quick flurry from her darting thumbs, a burning uppercut confirmed yet another KO in her favour, Lance’s last man twinkling to a distant star. This game was slightly less easy to frame count, but good situational awareness and proper item use was essential. Lance struggled even when she had let him grab a hammer or two first. She yawned, stretched, finally feeling tiredness creep up on her. “I must be getting sleepy, you knocked two entire lives off…even if it _did_ take your whole stock of ten to do it…”

Lance smiled as she stood, “You never did explain where you picked up all of that space dust…” He nodded to her now mucky vest, “I know it wasn’t from in here…”

“Keep telling yourself that, clean freak. Somewhere in this room, the dust bunnies with minds _immeasurably superior to your own_ regard this room with envious eyes. Slowly, but surely, they draw their plans against you…” Lance laughed softly at her deflection, she shuffled herself away as he stood, gently adding, “Thanks by the way… For today… I guess I needed to be dragged out of my…”

“Nest?” Lance teased, “Yeah, you really did need that… And, you’re welcome. Like I said, any time, day or night, I’m here.” Taking a cautious step forward, he raised an arm, moving to hug. Pidge is not a hugging type, he suddenly realised before awkwardly turning the gesture into a grin and a soft pat on her upper arm.

If Lance had blinked, he would not have seen it. So gentle it could be mistaken for a breeze. Pidge, for all but a moment, hugged him and pulled herself away again. Letting him get close when she was upset was one thing. But this… Her _initiating_ was rarer than eggs in deep space. Or at least it had been. “G’night…” She offered near silently before scurrying from the room.

Lance just smiled. The warmth in his chest rising to meet the brief and now fading warmth of her momentary embrace. “Sweet dreams…” He said to the now empty room.

* * * * *

Clustered in a rough circle about a still heaving pile of sugar cookies, four little creatures, bellies bloated and movements sluggish all groaned as one. The space caterpillars each took tiny nibbles of the cookies utterly unchallenged by the mice. Pidge tiptoed around the greedy space rodents toward her waiting bed. Coran must have let himself in to drop off the confections, letting the mice swoop in as well, she guessed. Try as she might, it was almost impossible to deny Coran access for all but a few handfuls of Ticks. He was probably cheating by using some archaic _physical_ lock and key system. Perhaps finding that could be a challenge for tomorrow. Assuming the relative quiet remained so. She did need to make plans to distract herself after all. It wasn’t as though she _doubted_ Lance’s sincerity in his promise – the earnest look in his kind eyes was enough to cast that doubt aside – but reality had a tendency to get in the way. Reality and Lance’s occasionally flighty nature. For a moment, a small ache swelled as she wished she’d had the nerve to hold him for longer. It was however quickly replaced with irritation as she looked to her bed sheets.

Arranged in mess of crumbs and spelled out in an assortment of teeth-hewn letters, the remnants of nearly half of the cookie order asked her quite the blunt question in all capitals. _WHY NOT JUST TELL LANCE HOW YOU FEEL?_ The fact the space mice knew English wasn’t as surprising as how well they had depicted the question mark. Pidge squatted herself to the floor, poking a chuckling Platt in his distended little stomach. The chuckling soon gave way to a groan and a surprisingly loud belch for such a tiny creature.

“To answer your question, my bloated little blackmailers…” Pidge teasingly hovered a finger over Platt’s stomach again, “I have this really bad habit of _misplacing_ the people I care about the most…” Her smile hiding a sudden and unwelcome shadow of sadness. “But doing something as dumb as _that_ could turn my usual habit of _misplacing_ into _losing_ … I know that I’ll find my Dad and I’ll see my Mom again… But some things, you just can’t fix, not if you ever want them to be _the same_ again... I don’t want to risk that… Besides…” She sighed, “I know that I’m not really his _type_ …” Her Dad wouldn't have been impressed of course. His mantra was always that one should take a risk rather than worry too much about the consequences. Inaction led to stagnation. Still, she wasn't worrying about what _might_ happen if she were honest. She was simply avoiding what she knew _would_ happen. The thought of her father and his favourite piece of advice made her heart ache all the more.

Sensing the growing melancholy in her, Green and Blue space caterpillars hovered over, nuzzling their soft fuzz to her face and cooing soothingly. Plachu, struggling a little, pulled himself atop the bed and began rearranging the letters. Watching the little mouse work, Pidge returned the affection of her nameless caterpillars with a soft stroke beneath their chins. _YOU TELL._ Plachu’s message read, the Altean animal nibbling on the rest of the question mark. _LANCE FEELS TOO_ the message continued, the other letters had been hurled – mostly quite accurately - to the plate on the floor.

Pidge smiled to the little mouse, a pitying gesture as she patted him on the head with a fingertip, “Nope.” She shook her head softly, gesturing that the little critter should skitter his way down. “We’re just friends…” Plachu stubbornly refused to move, still desperately pointing at his message even as Pidge poured mouse and cookies alike to the floor. “Keep the noise down guys. G’night…” As she settled down, she felt the sadness gnawing at her, hoping against hope that the night would bring pleasant dreams for the first time in weeks. Feeling her anxiety, two hovering fluff balls cuddle closer to her, soon taken into an embrace.

A more severe than usual look on his face, staring at his message, now shattered into sugary crumbs. Reassuring smiles from his family did little to appease him. For the second time that day, Plachu face-pawed.

 


	2. Shopping Day Morning: Tetrahedrally Bonded Carbon

**Shopping Day Morning: Tetrahedrally Bonded Carbon**

Coran never allowed his moustache to go ungroomed under any circumstances. Come Wozblay or wild hordes, no force in the cosmos would allow him to step foot outside his chambers until his lip warming soup strainer was properly trimmed, waxed and shaped. Once or twice his obsession with his appearance had come close to landing him in hot water. Back on Altea, he had very nearly caused an interplanetary diplomatic incident for being a few minutes late. In Coran's defence, it had been a _very_ bad facial hair day. So, despite the insistent knocks at his door and the third call from Lance in as many doboshes, Coran remained steadfastly fixed on his reflection, running a tiny comb through one side of his freshly wax riddled ginger lip lid.

Thud and thud and thud sounded and pounded at the door. “Coraaaaan!” The whine of the Blue Paladin came, “Hurry up would you…?!”

“I don’t recall ever hurrying _you_ when you’re in the middle of your daily skin care routine!” Coran called back, “So I’d appreciate it if you’d let me groom in peace! Perfectly sculpted facial hair simply cannot be rushed! Try a moustache yourself and you’ll soon see what I mean!” The Altean paused, picturing Lance with a moustache, “Actually, on second thoughts… No. First off, you’d probably just grow the typical youngster’s scruffy looking butt fluff at your age… Second, I reckon once you've matured a little, just a patch on the chin might suit you better…” He caught himself mid facial hair fashion tips and realised the time, “Anyway, you’re _never_ awake this early! _Go away!_ ”

“Coran!” Lance’s insistent demand came again, “I need to get to the Space Mall!”

“You know it _does_ have a name…” Coran grumbled, “Just prefixing everything with _space_ is going to get mighty confusing mighty quickly… Besides, I know full well you’ve got barely a rusted coin to your name and the customers won’t have refilled the fountain that quickly…”

“And just how much will I have _after_ our round the cosmos show gets adapted into _Super Taskforce Go-Lions?_ Just a ball-park figure will do…” Even muffled through the door, his tone implied a smug smirk.

Involuntarily dropping his tiny comb, Coran’s eyes widened in shock then narrowed to a severe frown. He hastily held a firm hand to the one as yet untouched half of his moustache as he hurriedly opened his door. He would keep to his code though. Not a foot would step outside. Peeking out into the corridor and holding Lance with a withering glare, he demanded, “Who told you about that…? It was _Hunk_ right…? Nobody else was excited by _that show_ …”

“Not important…” Lance was more than a little distracted by several stray strands of untamed mad moustache. Haphazardly hidden, yes, but still poking and peeking through the Altean’s fingers. “What _is_ important is making sure I can buy a _certain someone_ some _certain somethings_ , ok…?”

Coran frowned at Lance as several more moustache strands oddly enough _loudly_ sprang free, “Alright, fine… But I’m _trusting you,_ Lance… But _only_ because of who you're buying for. Just don’t go buying _space ships_ or _tetrahedrally bonded carbon_ just because they set it in some shiny bit of jewellery or carve it into a house…”

Whilst Lance had zero chance of understanding Coran’s reference to diamonds, the fact Coran was even _worried_ that he could purchase a space ship piqued his interest. His expression betraying him before he even spoke.

“I mean it, lad…” Coran’s tone was icy, “Go crazy and I cut you off again…”

Lance nodded, “I get it ok…? Geez...”

Coran, rummaging about in his room with his free hand, produced a palm sized thin black rectangular slab. “Thumb here…” He gestured, “Look into the light when it tells you to. Then breathe onto it when it tells you to. Finally, swipe on the store sensor to pay. Simplicity itself compared to the model that required a dance...”

Lance examined the high-tech card with curiosity, “Why…do I _breathe_ on it…?”

“DNA sample.” Coran explained, “Almost impossible for anyone else to use it.”

“And…do I even _want_ to know how you got my thumbprint, a scan of my eye and a _DNA sample_ without me knowing about it…?” The image of Coran sneaking into his room late at night in a Blade of Marmora stealth suit seemed oddly plausible, even _likely_. He suspected Coran might even _enjoy_ the figure fitting fashion.

Coran smirked, “You’re a heavy sleeper and I clean up after you. I clean up everything that you miss. _Everything_. And you seem to miss more than you realize... Let’s leave it at that shall we…?” Another moustache hair sprang free, “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” The Altean’s door whirred shut, leaving Lance to contemplate his distinct lack of privacy.

* * * * *

“Not sure I trust you to pilot this…” Pidge offered a polite but firm observation, settling herself in the co-pilot’s seat of the Flight Pod. “The last time I trusted in _The Tailor’s_ piloting skills it didn’t exactly end well…”

“ _Two_ …” Lance huffily insisted, “Two entire Lions later and you _still_ don’t think I’ve improved even a little…?” The insulted boy pouted, only partly as a joke, “C’mon, Pidge give me _some_ credit at least…”

“Fun Fact.” Pidge smirked, “You’re the Lion’s _co-pilot_ when all’s said and done… This Flight Pod doesn’t have an ancient intelligent being subtly correcting your mistakes… Lucky for you that for this flight, _my_ intelligence can correct your mistakes...”

Lance grunted, “Well, let’s just assume that Blue and Red have been _teaching_ as well as correcting…”

“Let’s not assume. But I do _hope…_ ” Pidge made a big teasing display of strapping herself in tightly, before adding, “It's not as though I exactly _mind_ having you along as extra company… But why _are_ you coming to the Space Mall, Lance…?”

“Pack Mule.” Lance responded, “Hunk’s on an ingredient hunt and he’s going to need someone to carry it all.”

“There going to be room for all that…?” Pidge wondered aloud, “Maybe we _should_ just grab a Lion or two…?”

“You heard Shiro…” Lance found himself also considering just where everything could be squeezed in. Not comfortably, that much was certain. “Too obvious. Last thing we need is drawing too much attention. Galra spies everywhere, y'know?”

Pidge frowned, Lions or not, humans were also not a common sight in this part of the universe. They would draw attention regardless. Especially if anyone had seen their _Voltron Show_ which by now most of the universe had. Something wasn't quite right with that explanation, but she decided it best to bide her time. “Pack mule almost sounds better than this stupid thing Coran’s sent me looking for…” She looked to the note Coran had hastily scrawled for her on _paper_ of all things, “Some kind of sticky mini-gloop to fix microfractures in a magnatomic wave compensator!” She read aloud, adopting a close parody of the ginger guardian's voice. “Nothing too ferrous either! Don’t fret Number Five, you’ll do fine! Blah blah, _Altean_ _gibberish_ , blah blah and good luck!”

Lance laughed gently at her Coran, “That’s not too bad. But don’t let him catch you doing that or it'll be like 30 extra laps of the castle for training…”

Pidge shrugged, “I feel like he’s sending me on a fool’s errand. I’ll happily wound his pride if that’s true. And 30 laps isn't the big deal that it used to be...” She felt a small surge of pride at that, “But I'm pretty damn sure that a _magnatomic wave compensator_ sounds about as bogus as a _Q-36 Space Modulator_ …”

“I dunno…” Lance thoughtfully rubbed at his chin, “Sounds like it’d make an _Earth shattering kaboom_ …” The small smile from Pidge, recognition of their shared reference to a real classic was heart-warming. Her gentle gaze, even from behind her unnecessary spectacles disarmed him. Heart sufficiently warmed and defences sufficiently down, Lance found himself asking something hastily, without giving it much thought and also giving it zero caution, “Say Pidge, maybe when we’re done with our errands, you think we could see if Space Malls have the Space Movies?”

Gazing over to him with a curious stare, Pidge pursed her lips in thought. “Lance, feel free to correct me if I'm getting this wrong…” She gingerly probed, “But did you just ask me if I wanted to go and see a movie with you…?”

Lance barely had the chance to feel his panic set in. That's what he asked and it only just now registered. Stammering little more than a hasty noise sounding a little like, “G-G-Gurgh...uuuurghth...!?” in reply. Before he could form a better response, a rushed looking Hunk shot into view, grasping at a long ream of heavily scrawled upon baking paper and hurrying toward the Flight Pod.

“Sudden change of plans!” Hunk was quite clearly running on fumes right now. “You’re going to have to pick this stuff up instead, Lance.” He thrust the paper at his puzzled Paladin pal, “Everything I need is right there…” He pointed, running a finger along the paper very deliberately vertically, “Coran needs my help realigning the magnatomic wave compensator… Could be a big job. Might take all day.”

“Oh _really_ …?” Pidge scoffed, “Isn’t that going to be difficult due to the _microfractures…_?”

Hunk paused only for the briefest moment to gather his excuse, “Well, doing the _realignment_ is fine… We just can’t switch the thing _on_ until the microfractures have been fixed… That's like _basic_ magnatomic repair procedure...”

Whilst Pidge fixed Hunk with a cynical stare, Lance hurriedly read down the list.   
_Phaelon Trimaxion Yeast_  
Arquelian Crunch Nuggets  
Rigellian Quelta  
Cornerian General Use Pepper  
Elemmental Chi’z  
Larvae, Non-Sentient – Extra Crunchy Blend  
Arrakis Spice  
Tamaranian Raisins  
Slime-Slug Salt  
All-Purpose Green Paste (Edible)  
Long Rooted Harrada  
Sugar  
He nodded at Hunk, grinning, to show he understood the message.

“Alright!” Hunk’s wink was not remotely subtle, “More work for you Lance, but on the plus side, more space in the pod!” Smiling kindly and offering both a wave, the yellow paladin hurried himself from the Flight Pod bay.

Pidge was by now exceptionally suspicious. However, that might have to wait. Lance nodded to her, indicating he was readying the launch. With a few quick inputs on the Altean holographic controls, the pre-flight checks were completed, the particle barrier and canopy of the tiny vessel clamping and projecting firmly shut. As the hangar bay’s doors whirred into action, Lance pulled out Pidge’s phone, from his pocket. It was almost _his_ at this stage considering how often he ended up borrowing and using it. Cycling through the apps to the music player and quickly from there to the cheesiest playlist of rock he could find. Mostly from a late 20th century cinematic tale about a flight school. “Did you put those on there…?” Pidge bluffed badly.

Lance only smiled as he hit the pod into overdrive. At least that’s probably what he would have called it. The pod burst from the bay, breaking immediately into a tight spiral. Officially an aileron roll, Lance had frustrated more than a few of his instructors by refusing to use the real name. Calling it instead a _barrel roll_ and even suggesting it could deflect laser fire. It could not. What made matters worse was that when simulator practice for _actual_ barrel rolls came around, Lance had caused the entire class some confusion and his instructors buckets more frustration. Equally frustrating to his instructors was his habit of crying out, “Woooohoooo!!!” the second he hit any speed or manoeuvrer resulting in more than a single G, which he did now of course.

Outwardly, Pidge could have easily passed for those frustrated instructors at this moment. Inwardly, she had always appreciated Lance's _passion_ for flight, though was often left concerned by his _execution_ of flight. He had improved though. She wondered if perhaps it would be better to tell him so once in a while, without letting it go to his head too much... It would make him smile, and she appreciated his smiles a great deal...

Phasing into a projected Teludav Wormhole, their flightpath soon levelled and slowed. “And this is the part I’m _not_ so keen on…” Lance groaned, hating the automated process that took over during Teludav transit, “Couldn’t this crazy space tunnel at _least_ have a loop in the middle…?”

Rather than fruitlessly – and _painfully_ – try to explain at necessarily exhaustive length to Lance the countless reasons that wouldn’t work on fundamental laws of the universe, Pidge instead concentrated on an earlier question. “Yes…” She almost silently says, turning her gaze to wormhole, “Not about the _wormhole_ , that’s…very _unlikely_ … But, your earlier question…about seeing a movie…? That's a yes... I think I’d like that…”

“You would…?” Lance’s equally shaky response came, “Well, _sure_ you would... I guess it could be fun, right…?”

“Could be…” Pidge agreed, shoving the mild anxiety aside by returning his nervous smile. It was a cute little attempt of his at looking both cocky and nonchalant, but it failed both utterly and endearingly. “I haven’t been since I was last on Earth… I could do with something that feels a little bit like being back home… Doing some _normal_ stuff that normal people do…”

“Normal is so overrated…” Lance loved to push his luck of course, “So…is this kinda maybe _sorta_ like...a _date_ …?”

“Not kind of, not maybe, not sort of. Not even _slightly_ a date...” Pidge lied, mostly to herself. Stupidly enough and with a heat disguised as frustration she realised that is _badly_ what she wanted it to be.

Lance was laughing at his own joke before he even said it, “We could call it a… _Star Date_ …?”

“I can still change my mind you know…” Pidge lied again, hiding her smile. She absolutely would not change her mind. “Dork...”

“From you, I'd be tempted to call that a massive compliment.” Lance sighed contentedly, watching the wormhole slowly open into a new sector of the universe. “And here's our stop. Thank you for flying Sharpshooter Shuttles, Ms. Holt and we hope you continue to have a pleasant day.”

“Ms. Holt...?” Pidge scoffed, “I feel about two decades too young for that... Or it makes you sound like a condescending teacher... _Pidge_ is just fine... Or...” She paused thoughtfully. Shiro wasn't a gossip so chances were good that nobody else onboard actually knew her full name. She assumed that Lance had figured out the Holt part from her brother sharing the surname, but she felt the insane urge to complete the puzzle for him. She trusted him to keep her name between them, but she didn't trust him to not call it excitedly and thoughtlessly on the bridge, or perhaps in the middle of a mission.

“Or...?” Lance probed gently as he swept their craft smoothly into the gravity well of the moon. Allowing the force of the pull to guide them slowly downward, a few tiny course corrections slowing their descent. The cockpit canopy swiftly polarised against the glare of the system's yellow star, rising above the curve of the horizon. Automatic green guidelines flashed into life on the HUD, a slowly curving set of steadily blinking chevrons focusing them toward a fairly standard docking structure on the surface. “Don't leave me in suspense here...”

“Actually...” Pidge squirmed, “Could I take that _or_ back...? I know it must seem weird, but...”

“I totally get it Pidge... It's a piece of that barrier you're always putting up...” He smiled kindly, though in his eyes there was the slightest shadow of sadness, “Kinda like someone who jokes around to ignore the heavy stuff... We've all got our own set of walls, right...?” With a flourish of muscle memory, his deft, dextrous hands worked the craft slowly toward their final landing.

Pidge nodded, “I guess so...” Even the slightest sadness in his tone got to her, gnawed at her. “But...these walls have doors in them too... Y'know...?” It felt clumsy, but she saw it reached him, a flare of interest in his expression. “What I'm saying is, I'm not shutting you out, it's just...that the door's a little...I don't know...stuck...?”

Lance's soft smile and gentle laugh was just what she had wanted to hear and to see, “Well, you let me know if it needs unlocking or maybe kicking down...?” Lance killed the tunes and pocketed the phone.

“Not sure how I feel about kicking it down... Maybe just be a little patient...?” She breathed a gentle sigh of relief, noticing they had come to halt as the canopy began to hiss open and the particle barriers faded from solid to non existent. “For what it's worth... I think I threw away the key that day I told everyone I was a girl... Actually, I _confirmed_ to everyone _else_. There was only one person who _needed_ to be told, wasn't there...?”

“You are _never_ going to let me live that down are you...?” Lance huffed, stepping easily out of the vehicle.

“Not so long as your reaction still amuses me, no...” Though somewhere at the back of her mind it did somewhat bug her. Yes, the whole _point_ of her ruse was to appear male, but of all the people she'd most _want_ to have seen through the disguise, it had to be someone so utterly dense. She grumbled to herself, frustrated that she was essentially, maybe even _literally_ , looking for _senpai to notice her_. Not the kind of submissive role she relished. Maybe she needed to be more forward...?

“It...doesn't _bother_ you, does it...?” His expression of genuine concern was almost as frustrating as the fact he could tell it _did_ bother her. Was she really so easy to read...? Was it just _him_ that could do it...? “Y'know, that I was the only one who didn't realise...? I wouldn't want you to take it as an insult or anything...” He extended a hand to help her from the pod, which she refused, scrambling awkwardly instead to the slightly elevated platform above.

“I tried to look like a guy and at least _one_ person fell for it...” Pidge shrugged, “If anything it just proves I needed a better disguise...” So much for forward...

Lance nodded, “Seemed to work on Iverson though... Still...I'm curious about that mysterious _or_ now...so maybe a little secret of my own could open that door of yours a little wider...?” Coincidentally, stepping through the doors of the space mall proper. The lightest blush touched his cheeks, “I always kinda thought that...” He paused, smiling nervously, “I thought you were a _cute_ guy... And I'm pretty picky about which guys I think are cute or not... So...there's that, right...?”

Pidge found herself unable to respond, unable to even _find_ a response. “Uh...yeah...I...should probably go find that microfracture gloop...” She mumbled.

“Meet you at the food court in a few vargas...?” Lance smiled, it was rare to see her lost for words. He kinda liked it.

“Sure...” Maybe she'd find a response by then...? She hoped so as she scurried away from that baffling boy.

* * * * *

Gathering his goods, Lance seemed rather pleased with the haul so far. There was bound to be at least _one_ thing in amongst all he'd gathered to make her smile. Hopefully one or two things. The one and only pet store in the mall had lousy customer service, acting like keeping Space Caterpillars – or whatever crazy word the clerk had called them - was somehow a really revolting and inconceivable concept. Maybe a little ironic given that the creature's own quite _distinctive musk_ reminded Lance of weeks old garbage. Talking the clerk around hadn't been easy, but eventually the prospect of currency mattered more than his concept of cleanliness. That had been the only real hurdle so far. Keeping Pidge occupied with the gloop had been a good call of Coran's and Shiro's, it seemed that the shops most likely to carry anything even remotely close to it were dotted both haphazardly about and at pretty large distances apart. Assuming it even existed and this wasn't a _Tartan Paint_ scenario. A few times he'd caught a glimpse of an exasperated Pidge desperately trying to explain what she was looking for to ever more puzzled shopkeepers. Part of him wanted to just stop the ruse and hang out with her all day. Truth be told he wanted that a great deal, but still, he needed to find these gifts without her knowing. A comment Hunk had made earlier came to mind as he once again readjusted the bags. He was proving his friend right. Lots of _just in case_ gifts and he hadn't even reached the Earth Items Store where they'd adopted Kaltenecker yet... Damn. Maybe he should see if the pet store stocked cow bells later. He was sure though that the grey dude would have plenty of stock for one of his two best – and possibly _only_ – customers. He couldn't help it though, there were quite a few things he was finding that screamed Pidge and she deserved them. And _maybe_ a little selfishly, he wanted to see that smile that warmed his heart, to be the cause of it. And why the heck is it so hard to find a place that sells picture frames...? He wondered, as just the right looking place came into view.

The attendant of the small booth could be best described as having shining skin in several subtle shades, fading and darkening somewhere between lavender, lilac and light purple. She was quite beautiful for her species and very obviously bored. She wore a white form fitting blouse, very clearly company issue given all the inoffensive and yet excited looking fonts that adorned it. Tall, lithe and subtly athletic in build, she was leaning heavily upon the counter and clearly yearned to be almost anywhere else in the universe, judging by the rhythmic tapping of her two-thumbed and three fingered hand drumming on the counter. With one of her three other hands, she toyed listlessly with the maw of foot-long tentacles covering what on most species might have been the upper lip, sighing outwardly and causing the glistening lengths to undulate with each breath. All around her, advertised in runes, glyphs and alphabets that Lance had no hope of deciphering were a vast selection of frames, larger and smaller, darker, lighter, wood effect and cobbled together from upcycled scrap, each showing in a looped cycle a small selection of adverts for themselves and their fellow products. Turning a pair of distant, tired, shadowy grey and slightly bulbous eyes toward Lance, from beneath a large and prominent domed skull, the attendant let out another gurgling sigh. “Welcome to the Frame of Mind...” The well-rehearsed line came with only a breath of the enthusiasm she was taught to deliver it with. “If you've got frames on your mind, then look no further...” She sighed again, gesturing around herself as enthusiastically as she could muster, which was indeed very little. “Whaddya want...?”

Lance, turning on the charm, shot the shopkeeper one of his trademark grins. “Maybe I've just found her...?” Lance figured that should be worth about 10% off. He goes away with a slightly better deal, she goes away with a little boost of confidence. Fair trade, he thought. He'd be happy if the situation was reversed too. However, he figured wrong.

“Does that work often? _Ever_?” The attendant groaned. “No discounts. Also, my eyes are up here. Stop staring at the tentacles. You'd better _hope_ you were just staring at the tentacles...”

“How about if I told you I was _the Blue Paladin of Voltron_...?” His cheesy grin intensified. “Isn't that worth the pretty boy discount? The _hero of the universe_ discount maybe...?”

“Sure thing, _larva..._ You're a paladin of Voltron and my Great Uncle is the God-Brain Kthanid...” The sales-creature rolled her eyes, a cloudy nictitating membrane quivering as she did. “So...whaddya want...?”

“Well, I'm looking for a picture frame...” Lance still kept his charm turned on, “And maybe we could even put the two of us together in it...?”

“Maybe you could stop that before I call security...?” Even beneath the tentacles, the fake smile was very clearly one of growing frustration. “No. Discounts.”

Lance nodded sheepishly, “Yes ma'am.” You win some, you lose some. “No discounts...”

“So, which one?” She had by now lost all patience.

Lance scanned about the goods, “You have any just for _one_ picture...?”

“Our state of the art frames allow you to customise the playback and even pause for as long as you wish on a single file with no easily measurable screen burn in 90% of cases...” She rattled off another trained phrase, “Satisfaction guaranteed or get your GAC back within one month of purchase. Terms and conditions apply.”

“No, I mean just a piece of see through glass or plastic, and a frame... You put a picture, _a physical picture_ , inside it...?” Lance gestured to the frames, “Like these, but just for _one_ picture...?”

As she laughed, each of her ten face tentacles quivered madly, “Wow, that sounds like such a waste of space! Maybe try a _junk_ store or an _antique_ store...?” Her gurgling laughter followed Lance as he walked indignantly away.

He hadn't really considered how difficult it would be to find something as – what he had until now assumed to be – simple as a picture frame. Maybe Matt had known exactly how tricky it was going to be and _that's_ why he seemed keen on the idea? Wouldn't exactly put it past him, wouldn't even _blame_ him necessarily. Lance knew very well that even as his own younger sister grew older, he would adopt precisely the same defensive and protective behaviour around any boy she was friends with. That was assuming he ever made it back to Earth of course, the doubts in his own mind goaded. Shaking them aside, Lance reassured himself that A) He _was_ going to get back to Earth, but the Universe needed him first and B) Unlike Matt, _he_ would only be protecting his little sister to make sure it was the _right_ guy for her, not just getting touchy over every male friend she makes. B made him do a sudden double take, pausing in thought in the middle of a walkway. A family of fibrous looking green hued humanoids grumbled as they walked around the sudden blockage. For a mad moment, he wondered if perhaps Matt's motivation was _precisely the same_ as his would one day be. Couldn't be, surely...? He shook that thought aside as well, scanning about for the next place that might satisfy his desire for the _perfect gift_ if such a thing really existed here. He was suddenly very thankful that so much effort was being made on his behalf back in the Blue Lion's bay...

Wooden panelling may not have been what first made his eyes wander here. It may have been the dull spice of incense on the breeze or the soft clattering of the door chimes. The line between antique dealer and junk merchant was always a fine one, but this particular shop seemed to straddle it well, if the seldom wiped windows were anything to go by. Behind the murky glass, dusty half buried tomes balanced precariously over chairs meant for species without spines. Translucent metal dishes were filled with jewellery ranging from the battered costume variety to the probably should be in a museum variety. Clocks with six hands and fourteen numerals, wooden sculptures that from one angle seemed formless and from another quite lewd. Lampshades, bottles, ancient oxidised copper kettles, nick-nacks and brick-a-brack all. Lance entered, it was at least worth a try.

From behind the counter, a short humanoid creature nodded and smiled to Lance. It looked to be somewhere between a schnauzer, a long haired shih-tzu and oddly enough something else Lance could only hazily recall. The name of a fictional creature drifted to his mind, a _luck dragon_ from an almost ancient movie that he had seen as a very small child. As the shopkeeper moved in the gloom, placing a book to his desk, Lance could almost swear that he even saw the same shimmering and transparent scales among the creature's visible fur. Brushing down black silken robes, a tumble of it's own shed white fur fell to the floor. It spoke in a very precise, warm and kind tone, “Welcome.” He smiled again, “There is something you need.”

Lance nodded, putting his bags down, “Sure, that's why I came into a shop...” He joked, the creature politely responding with a nod, “Don't suppose you have a...?” The young man was hushed by the shopkeeper raising a fuzzy hand.

“You are looking for... A housing for a single solid memory...” The creature's tone growing huskier, “You also seek a gift of such perfection that it might reach the heart of one whom you... _value extremely deeply_...”

Lance began to back slowly away, “That's spooky, dude... You... _magic_ or something...?”

The creature raised a curly haired eyebrow, “I definitely fall into the category _or something_ , Paladin. I'm a Xsaipr. We have the ability to read surface thoughts of the more... _open minded_ species in the universe. Nothing magical here, just very mundane psionic ability. I didn't mean to alarm you.”

Lance breathed a sigh of relief, glad that his itchy Bayard fingers need not summon his weapon right now. “So... I guess you know I'm a Paladin because of that mind reading too...?”

“Oh no!” He grinned, turning a monitor around, paused on a familiar pose the five of them had struck on stage, “I recognised you from the _Voltron Show!_ I don't suppose _Keith_ is around is she...? Strange name that one, but quite the looker all the same... Always hoped I could get her autograph, or just a _smile_ might do...”

Lance smirked, “No, sorry dude. Princess _Keith_ is in another castle.” The Xsaipr gent looked quite crestfallen, Lance letting a grin light up his face, “But, if you're looking for an autograph... Then you've got _Loverboy Lance_ and _Science-Wiz Pidge_ in your sector for one day only. I'm sure we can spare some time for a fan.”

“No offence meant, Paladin... But I have several boxes of _your_ merchandise that I just can't quite sell even all this time later... Even at 95% off, it's just gathering dust...” He ran his fingers gently through his long beardish-fur, “Pidge's does a little better... If only she would _smile_ more... Am I right?” He shrugged, “Don't suppose you happen to have anything of _Shiro's_ on you? Used power cell from his arm? A lock of hair?” His voice lowered to a very quiet whisper, “Some customers I know would pay top GAC for a pair of his underwear... _Hundreds, thousands even_ if...ummm...not so _fresh_...”

Lance went silent before clearing his throat. “I want to leave this conversation now.”

“Understandable.” The Xsaipr nodded, “I'll see about that... _picture frame..._ that what you call it? Meanwhile, you have a browse, see if there's some other trinket or object that you hope will sway the lovely lady to your charms...”

Lance shuffled awkwardly and stepped carefully about the cluttered collection that was the shop, his gaze occasionally turning to the oddities dotted about. Beside one shelf, he felt certain something looked back at him, then after a blink, the jar of black liquid turned back to an unoccupied ooze. Thousands of books were gathered about the place, some piles reaching so high and covered in so much dust that Lance was convinced they had become essential to the structure of the building. The languages on the spines were impossible to make out. Something scurried across his foot, he leapt back reflexively, knocking a smooth and very solid glass orb into his hand. Glancing at it briefly, Lance just returned it to the shelf.

“Find anything...?” The Xsaipr asked, grasping several rectangular objects beneath it's arms. “Not one perfect item to win her heart...? No technical doohicky...? No rare and beautiful green gems...? No amber and golden hued something or other that reminds you of the eyes that leave you breathless...? No lockets in the shape of a heart even...?”

Lance shrugged, “I think I'll be happy enough with the frame if you have one...”

“I have choices.” The Xsaipr confirmed, laying out the eight items on his desk. “And I'm not surprised you didn't find anything. You don't even know what you're looking for, do you...?”

Nodding partly as he examined the frames and partly in agreement, Lance took a hand to his chin, “Guess not... I think I'll know when I see it... If there _is_ an it... A perfect gift...”

The Xsaipr mirrored Lance's chin rubbing, “You could always wrap yourselfup and see how that goes...? I mean that figuratively of course, though maybe literally could work in your favour as well...?”

Lance said nothing, though his mind grappled with the concept.

The attentive attendant tapped a long finger to one of the frames. Natural wood stripped of bark, lightly varnished to a golden hue. The whorls and knots of the wood looked ancient despite their tiny size, the glass panel itself was about as large as Lance's outspread hand. “This seems a strong possibility.”

“Sure...” His tone unsure, “But a little on the big side, isn't it...?”

“Think of it as...space for more memories made together? You could even start today. I'm pretty sure there's one of those _imaging booths_ around here somewhere... I hear they're popular with the youngsters...” The shopkeeper smiled, knowing full well by the expression on Lance's face that he had made a sale. The low level psionic ability only confirmed it. He also supposed it wouldn't hurt so much to add a zero on the end of the price, knowing very well that Lance would pay it without question. Which indeed he did. “Pleasure doing business with you, Paladin. Send my regards to your dear Science-Wiz...”

Beaming a smile wide as a lunatic, Lance strode purposefully from the antique dealer's little cavern of oddities. He began to wonder where his quest might take him next, what treasure he might yet unearth for the one he treasured so much. Then, a rather odd sensation caught his attention. It may have been pretty familiar back on Earth of course, but Earth this was not. The sensation grew more insistent the longer he left it. A shuddering, shaking, humming and whirr of vibration, utterly unmistakable as anything else. He pulled Pidge's phone from his pocket, staring to the green and red symbols on the display.

“Weird...” He mumbled, though curiosity got the better of him. With a slide of one thumb across the screen, a familiar face appeared. The relief and excitement on the caller's face quickly turned to a grimace. “Matt!” Lance grinned back, utterly missing the older boy's obvious disdain, “What a small universe! I just finished getting that picture frame you sent me looking for... You wouldn't _believe_ how tricky it was... You want to see it...?”

Grimace turned to glare. Matt was hunkered down in a dusty prefab shelter, his face covered in grime. “Lance...” His cold expression mirrored in his cold tone, “Why _exactly_ do you have _my little sister's phone_...?”

Lance laughed nervously, realising this had quickly turned to another interrogation. “Well...I just like her taste, y'know...?”

Matt's eyes narrowed in a combination of contemplation and contempt, “You like her... _taste_...?”

Lance furiously blushed, “In music! Oh wow, yeah, in _music_... I mean, it'd be seriously _weird_ if I was like _licking_ her phone or something... Weird though, it _does_ still smell a little like the strawberry shampoo she used at the Garrison...”

“Your knowledge of her shampoo habits does _very_ little to comfort me...” Matt practically growled, “And are you _honestly_ expecting me to believe she just _lets you_ borrow it...?”

“Her shampoo...?” Lance looked confused, “I mean, I never really _asked..._ no conditioner, essential oils, vitamins...”

“ _Her phone..._ ” Matt sighed, “I was talking about _her phone_...”

“Oh yeah.” Lance nodded, “All the time...” He paused, “Now I think about it, she's pretty protective when anyone else asks...”

“Oh, you don't say...” Matt's gaze began to wander, “Where _are_ you anyway...?”

“Space Mall.” Lance replied, “Anything you want me to pick up for you at the Earth store...?”

“I'm hunkered down here in the middle of a dangerous operation... I'm _liberating_ this planet from Galra control... And you're out _shopping_...? You're a _Paladin of Voltron!!_ What if, I don't know...the _universe needs_ _d_ _efending!?_ ”

“We have our communicators with us...?” Lance scoffed, “And Teludav transport is nearly instant, so... What's the issue...?”

“ _Questo stupido...”_ Matt grumbled beneath his breath.

“Hey man, I may be stupid, but I'm not _that_ stupid...”

“The jury's still out on that...” Matt sighed, “Can you just make sure Pidge gets her phone back when you next see her...?”

“Sure, we'll be meeting up for lunch in a couple of Vegas anyway...”

“ _Vargas_...” Matt corrected, “And once you're done with _shopping_ and the _food court_ , are you two planning on seeing a _movie_ as well...?” His tone dripping with sarcasm. Sarcasm that was utterly lost on Lance.

“Actually, yeah. I mean, if they _have_ them here...” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “Not seen one _yet_...”

Matt just hung up. Lance shrugged the conversation off.

* * * * *

Even with a largely amorphous fleshy beige blob of a body and a face that was little more than a cluster of six small black spheres, anyone could easily tell that the sales creature was growing steadily more sour in mood. Perhaps the rapidly expanding and contracting lower spheres were the equivalent of a frown? It understood very well the customer need for certainty, but patience began to ebb away even for the most professional. With another shuddering groan, the sales creature extended a protrusion that it's sky blue staff uniform had shaped into the rough approximation of a stubby arm. Quivering, it gestured toward the item that the taller creature was still uncertain about. From somewhere deep within it's slug-like lower half, the sales creature once more assured with a tone of voice that seemed to long for oblivion, “It's completely machine washable, sir... Should the need _ever_ arise...” It's binary brains were starting to ache at having to deal with a creature that had clearly just recently come from some backwater planet where the _wheel_ must be recent history. It wasn't worth the sales commission having to explain something so basic. “The internal nano-circuitry is entirely proof against water up to 200,000 Diarrenths... Which, I'm _fairly_ sure are an equivalent to what you _exhaustively_ described as _metres_... It's also entirely powered by the kinetic energy produced by simple wear... And yes, it's _also_ a self-cleaning, somewhat self _repairing_ and yes, self _straightening_ Nano-Weave... It cools in heat, heats in a chill, it even freshens and dries sweat. Just like _every other garment_ you have asked about...”

The taller creature with the lightly browned dermal layer bent down, arching it's endoskeletal support. It regarded the sales creature's identity badge, “I dunno... _Quxzevva..luff..._?” It rubbed the top of it's head, shedding particles of skin that the sales creature's impressive senses could _smell_ even over the creature's odd and overpowering choice of perfume. “Where I come from, the stuff you're saying just sounds too good to be true...”

“The Jwex is _silent_ and put less emphasis on the Fnord...” The often mispronounced named sales creature sighed and quivered. The odd lanky creature stared back in what one could only assume was stupidity. It didn't even know the alphabet!? “Luff will be fine...”

“Alright Luff...” The creature extended itself back to full height, “Let's say I believe that these clothes do everything you say they do...” The creature set down several overstuffed bags that looked much too heavy for it. “Do they change size too...?”

“Don't be ridiculous...” Luff groaned, “That would require mass shifting. In what absurd reality would _mass shifting_ make sense...? Now... _Lance_ was it...? I have other customers waiting... _Paying_ customers...”

Lance held his hands up defensively, “Look, Luff, I'm sorry... Still pretty new to this sector of the universe and even _newer_ at figuring out women's fashion in another language... I promise, I _am_ buying... It's just I'm getting these as _gifts_ and I don't want to screw it up... You get that right...?”

“Ah, I think I see.” Luff almost nodded the tip of his lower body, “Part of courtship rituals? Apologies, I always found the extra effort in those cases quite baffling. Though, my species reproduces through budding, so that may be why... Seems a lot simpler to me... Now, I assume you know their size, mass, limb configuration...?” Luff paused, “Do you at _least_ know their relative dermal acidity level...?”

Lance shrugged apologetically, examining an image that depicted a weird cluster of oddly shaped symbols and colours. It apparently was a sizing chart, though could just have easily been an explanation of quantum gravity to Lance. “Not _exactly..._?”

“It's just a simple _scan!_ How can you not!?” Luff regained his composure. “What I mean to say is, I won't be able to help you without a scan of the individual in question. I don't suppose they are _here_ today are they...?” Secretly, Luff hoped not if only for some peace. That hope was soon dashed.

“Actually, they are...” Lance smiled, “Good luck, right...? So, how do I get one of these scan things...?”

“With a _scanner_...?” Luff was met with a clueless smile. Whatever the gurgling grunt of a noise Luff made was, it was very much unhappy. “We have a hand held unit for in store use... Which I suppose I can allow you to use...” Luff said clearly, before it added in an infrasonic tone; “ _Anything to be rid of you..._ ”

“Thanks Luffy, you're a nice guy!” Lance smiled broadly.

Luff chose to ignore what he assumed were not _intentional_ insults. “Please, just wait here as I fetch it...”

Lance nodded, turning his attention back to the Green Lion T-Shirt he had previously been examining. He had no idea what the text said, but the image was very nicely done, perhaps a touch on the cutesy side, but not so much that the Green Lion looked more like a green cub. The fabric was unbelievably soft and was just the right shade for her too. The most striking fact of course was that the Lion was animated. That had been amazing enough to Lance that when he first saw a piece of clothing doing that, his jaw dropped as he stared fixated. It had practically blown his mind when he realized that the animated image still felt as soft as the rest of the fabric and even _reacted_ to his interaction by swiping at his hand when he touched it.

“Programmable nano-weave smart fabric... Embedded interactive animated design...” A familiar voice beside him commented, “Essentially a wearable screen... Hmmm. Pretty neat.”

Lance froze, shoving his bags aside with a none too stealthy foot.

“You _do_ realise that's a woman's fit, though...right?” Pidge yawned, readjusting her own tiny bit of shopping over one shoulder.

“It is?!” Lance smiled nervously back at her.

“And...did you also know that the Galra text reads... _one_ _sexy beast_...?”

“Well...” He struggled for all of a moment, “I happen to think that Green is a _very_ attractive war machine. I think she'd be _offe_ _nded_ if you didn't think so too...”

Pidge wanted to laugh at his terribly lame excuse, but the growing weariness turned it to a smiling sigh, “Well, you know green's not exactly your colour... Or your Lion...? Didn't realise she was your _type_ though... Like I said, woman's fit. With that and the size you're looking at right now...it's going to be like a skin-tight crop top on you.”

“Maybe true...” Lance's confidence returning just a touch, “But you know very well that I'd still look good in it...”

“Sure. A little asphyxiated maybe, but good.” Pidge shook her head, “Still, it _is_ pretty cool... Maybe I could borrow it off you from time to time...?”

“Sure thing!” Lance laughed, “It never occurred to me that _you'd_ like it as well!!”

“Uhuh...” Pidge doubted, “I'd probably hack it's firmware. Just to change the text, at least make it English... Give Green a little more personality... Maybe add in a few lines of code, let me use it as a screen... I guess it's touch sensitive...?” She rubbed the animated Green Lion under it's chin, the animation reacting like a much beloved house cat. Lance found himself wondering why Green had _swiped_ at him when he tried to do the same thing. “Pretty good response time, good sensitivity... Fabric feels pretty nice too... Being able to just touch myself as an interface would certainly improve my productivity....”

Lance forced back a snigger.

Pidge regarded him almost pityingly and sighed, “Too tired. Don't want to have to filter my every word assuming you'll make a double entendre out of it, Lance...”

Lance just smirked. A thought flashed across his mind, “Almost forgot!” He grabbed at and thrust Pidge's phone to her. “Matt _called_ somehow. Didn't think your service plan was that good! Either that or _all_ you Holts are tech wizards....?” His smile was apologetic. “I think he was expecting _you_ to pick up...”

Pidge nodded, “How silly of my brother to assume _I_ would have _my_ phone... Personally, I'd prefer the term _Technomancy_ if you want to call the Holt school of wizardry anything...” She took the device, then looked very obviously to Lance's shopping, “I see that the _ingredient hunt_ has gone a little off track, hasn't it...? Coran let you access your GAC...?”

Lance shrugged, “Just a little retail therapy. And yeah, course he did... Coran totally trusts me...” He felt the nerves returning, noticed Luff dragging himself rapidly back, “Any luck with that...glue stuff...?”

“No, Lance...” She groaned, “Hence the tiredness. I haven't yet caught Coran's Wild Goose, but I'll keep chasing it, ok?” Pidge's tone turned a hint of nervous, “Though, whilst I've been dragging myself around the whole place... I _did_ spot something... Turns out they _do_ have the Space Movies here... Couple of them don't even look _that_ terrible... Even the snacks are reasonably priced _..._ ” Falling silent for a moment, her gaze drifted away from his, “ _So_... Would that still be the plan later...? After lunch...?” She shuffled uncomfortably on her feet, “I mean, it's not a big deal either way and it doesn't _have_ to be... You know, if you changed your mind or whatever then...” Realising the rampant rambling, Pidge stopped herself.

Lance nodded, “Yeah, still the plan...” He struggled to look casual about it.

“Great. You know, _alright_... Ok... Good.” Her tone tried to seem less happy than it really was, even the weariness seemed to give way to a touch of pep as her face lit up in a smile, “So, you just keep enjoying your _shopping spree_...” She teased, “And if you've got enough for all that junk, then you're _also_ buying the lunch.” She insisted, “ _And_ you're finding me something with _excessive amounts of both sugar and caffeine_...” Before finally leaving Lance to just stare after her.

Another nod, he was struck dumb not only in expression but also in lacking any vocalisation. A contended smile and a welcome surge in his heart. He could pretend it was a date, right? Just couldn't tell her so.

“Judging by the inflamed blood vessels in your face...” Luff intoned, breaking Lance from his trance. The sales creature was grasping a small silver chrome device. It looked suspiciously like a 1950's pulp style laser pistol toy, except with a small screen on the back and even more dents, chips and scratches than you might imagine. “I assume _that_ was the creature whose scan we required...? Quite a fortunate turn of events, really...”

“Yeah, that's her alright...” Lance smiled dreamily, the blush Luff had referenced still glowing softly. He added a little thoughtlessly, “She's _crazy_ cute, right...?”

“Given that I reproduce asexually without the need of a companion, _physical attraction_ makes very little sense to me... Given that we aren't even close to being similar species, even contemplating the idea _comparative_ physical attraction makes my brains hurt... Please take no offence when I say that I have _absolutely no frame of reference to agree or disagree_ , but I'll happily take your word for it if it means this transaction finishes sooner...” Luff presented the screen to Lance. “Do these all seem accurate...? No additional or retractable arms, legs or tentacles I missed...?”

Lance pointed nervously, “I may be reading _this_ wrong... But don't _these measurements_...seem a little bit...much...? And this one seems really small _..._ ” He smiled nervously, adding to himself in a soft thoughtful tone, “Guess food goo really is good for your waistline... That or being heroes of the universe makes for a damn good workout...”

“She wears clothing several sizes too large it seems. That and one particular garment that whilst ideal for extended periods of physical exertion, does little to emphasise or even realistically portray oneself physically...” Luff explained, “Not very _flattering on the female form,_ shall we say...”

“Oh...right...” Made sense with the whole, _disguise_ thing she was going for. Not as though she had anything else _except_ said disguise... Lance pondered this new piece of rather fascinating information perhaps a little bit too long, a gormless grin sneaking onto his features.

“Are we actually _buying_ now then...?” Luff was growing impatient once again. “You've dragged me around through half the store and through almost every type of garment we sell. You've been asking me the most _absurd_ questions I ever heard...please tell me you're ready to buy _something_...?”

“Yeah, two more questions though...” Lance responded distantly, dismissively, “Can the text on the shirts be changed and can it all get gift wrapped...?”

Luff nodded, “Yes, all of the shirts come with the standard text interface on the inner surface. We don't unlock it in store because of younger beings with crude senses of humour... And yes, all of our products can be gift wrapped for a small fee... So, just the Green Lion shirt then...?”

Lance nodded, “Sure. That, maybe a couple of long sleeved shirts made of this crazy nano-weave mega-thread or whatever you call it... Maybe some... _particular garments_ like you mentioned before? Practical ones though. _Plain..._ No...patterns or whatever... Some good for workouts, some good for being...a little _flattering_ maybe...?” He smiled to himself, “Yeah and everything else we looked at. In the right sizes of course...”

“ _Everything_ we looked at...? As in... _everything..._?” Luff's tone quickly shifted from down to up beat. The hefty bonus such a massive purchase would result in was the _primary_ reason of course. Getting rid of Lance was by now quite secondary in Luff's concerns. “Yes! Right away, Sir! You have impeccable taste!”

“Also... Do you stock anything for _colder weather..._?”

* * * * *

It seemed such a small and simple thing, held firm between her palms. The long rigid tube had caused her no amount of hassle and stress, but now it was a triviality. Her keen eyes ran over the length of it, picking out the faded runes from a language that seemed the work of overly caffeinated squids using their off hand. “Or, off tentacle...or would it be an off pseudopod...?” Pidge yawned to herself, finally able to sit and relax after what had finally proven to be a successful hunt. She was certain that even Coran was going to be surprised that this semi-ferrous equipment filler actually existed. She certainly was. Tucking it away alongside a small box in a plain white paper bag, she smiled. One item was a profound waste of time, the other she hoped may have made the first half of the Quintant worthwhile. The second half meanwhile was making her stomach turn loops. The more she considered her reaction to something as simple as seeing a movie with Lance, the less sense it seemed to make. _It wasn't a date_ , she kept telling herself. This wasn't going to be the moment she told him her feelings and like some cheesy love story he'd sweep her up in his arms. “And here's that stupid nervous reaction again...” She thought to herself, “Nonsense... It's just _Lance_....” She had with only one second thought, run into an alien lion robot, chased her brother across unknown and uncharted space _alone_ , she was fighting a war for the universe. Fear of serious and lasting injury, even of _death_ had become easy to overcome for her. Sometimes it even worried her how easy that courage in the face of potential oblivion had become. She wasn't exactly _numb_ to the concept, who ever could be truly? Still, she coped far better than her younger self could have dreamed.

So why oh _why_ , was _this_ so different? A friend and confidante, maybe the best friend she'd ever known outside of her own family. If there was anyone that she could tell _anything_ to it was surely _him_ of all people...? And that in part was true of course. Pidge imagined herself in some alternate reality where her affections had taken her in other paths. If it had been anyone else, of course she would have approached Lance first. The teasing would have been merciless, but his trust wouldn't have been in question and she knew – even in the realities she pictured where Lance was some other species entirely – that he would do anything just to help make her happy with whatever other being she had fallen for. That was the problem though. It _wasn't_ any other being. It was Lance. The one she'd turn to in such a crisis - “Crisis seems a bit of a strong word for it...” She thought to herself. The one she would turn to in such an _eventuality_ was himself the crux, the very nexus of that problem.

Erwin Schroedinger and his famous feline thought experiment popped into Pidge's overworked and tired mind. Schroedinger's Cat would be hypothetically sealed in a hypothetical box, with a hypothetical vial of hypothetical poison set to hypothetically kill it only once a hypothetical radioactive particle had decayed. The cat thus hypothetically existed in a state of limbo, of _quantum uncertainty,_ simultaneously alive _and_ dead... Until such time as it's hypothetical box was hypothetically opened, revealing it to be either dead or alive. Hypothetically. Pidge had always groaned in despair when she had to deal with people who believed the experiment had been _literally_ conducted with an _actual cat_ so even in her own thoughts she made a point of reminding herself that every aspect was entirely a fiction designed to get the noggin joggin'. Indeed, to get people to reflect on the _absurdity_ of some interpretations of quantum mechanics. Lance, like the hypothetical cat, was very much her own quantum uncertainty.

By opening the box, revealing the truth of her feelings, Lance's reaction would be likewise revealed. Though it wasn't as simple as merely a binary choice between one of two. His reaction was entirely unpredictable. At one end of the spectrum, he might reciprocate even more strongly than Pidge dared even conceptualise in her most private thoughts. At the other, it would mean instantly losing him, driving a rift between them that could never be healed. Between those two extremes were any number of other reactions, up to and including the non resolution of him laughing it off, treating her admission as Pidge just kidding around with him. Of all the possibilities _that_ was the one that made Pidge the most nervous. Even an outright rejection she could at least come to terms with, given time. But to open her heart to that irresistible idiot only to have him laugh it off and still leave her clueless? _That_ would be a truly cruel outcome. There were too many variables to be certain of what result could be reasonably predicted. Even Lance's current behaviour, sweet though it had been, even his small admission of finding the disguise of Cadet Gunderson a cute guy, shocking though it had been... Lance was still unpredictable. If anything, those two factors only served to _prove_ his unpredictability. Or at least, that's what she told herself as she over-analysed his every action. Maybe, ultimately it did all boil down to simple fear after all.

Her Father's words played in her mind as they often did when she was contemplating the Lance Conundrum. Missing the chance to do something great, sure, that may be true. Risking something so rare though, one of her few friends in the universe... Maybe she was only missing the chance to _lose_ something great? After all, though she never _took_ crap, the world had tried to give her plenty. School in particular, she had always been shunned, an outsider, a pariah, just for being smart. Whilst _now_ that all seemed so far away, it had affected her development, she knew that. Finding and maintaining friendships, making meaningful connections, it was _hard_ for her. Losing them though, that happened easily. One misspoken word, one careless comment. Losing Lance could equally happen easily. Coping with that though...? It wasn't something she wanted to contemplate. Maybe her particular box, like Pandora's and Schroedinger's, needed to be kept sealed as firmly shut as possible. After all, Pandora and Schroedinger had one thing in common. What was ultimately left unreleased or unrevealed in their boxes was that most positive form of uncertainty; _Hope_. Better to hold onto that potential, that hope, than risk it all...surely that made sense?

Pidge glanced to the clock, only a handful of doboshes had passed since she had last checked it. Lance was still running late by her best estimate, “Quiznaking Wozblay...” Pidge grumbled to herself, “Punctuality is _not_ one of your positive qualities...” Her mind decided to visualize a great deal of the many other positive qualities of the handsome Paladin. A sequence of smiles, of embraces, of breathtaking gazes. Images of a toned physique she was absolutely _not_ looking at, _not_ distracted by as he raced about in nothing but swimming shorts. The stolen moments, glancing at his _form_ in his _form hugging_ jeans... “Screw you, brain... You know I love you, but could you just give me a little break from this for just a little while...? Please...?” Pidge felt as though she could have slammed her head into the food court table upon realising she was talking to her own brain as though it was a separate entity. The only reason she did not, was the very real possibility that the delicate looking semi-metallic semi-plastic circle might shatter. She did at least rest her chin to her hands and sigh deeply. Her brain responded to her appeal for calm with an often imagined scenario of a certain someone seductively surrendering to shared sensuality. “A lobotomy never looked so tempting, brain...”

Another impatient glance to the clock prompted a small furrowing of her brows. Her phone announcing itself with a humming buzz from one pocket perked her up, glad for something to take her mind off the wait. Answering with a sweep of the thumb, she cheerily smiled to her beleaguered looking brother, “Hey Matt. What's up? Liberation of Galleus going well?”

“Well enough to catch a breather sure...” He wiped a sweaty brow clean, nodding in thanks as a yellow hand offered him a drinks can from off frame. Around him was what appeared to be a relatively peaceful looking world, lush and green. If not for the distant smoke, nothing could seem any more than peaceful. “Resistance has been pretty heavy, though entirely automated. Luckily for us the planetary governor here was _crazy_ paranoid. Doesn't trust a single flesh and blood Galra, so his forces are entirely mechanical. Even better, his robots are several firmware updates behind, again, Paranoid. Lousy security protocols. Works to our advantage, especially when we've been able to install a few choice Holt Family Gems...”

“You're welcome.” Pidge nodded in satisfaction, always glad to know that her latest batches of Galra-Busting malicious code were wreaking havoc even in her absence. “But I'm sure you're not calling me to let me know how that's going...”

“Not exactly...” Matt took a seat upon a pile of mangled Galra sentries, sipping at his tinned beverage, “Smells like root beer, this stuff. Sadly, it _tastes_ just like if aniseed and burned old firecrackers had a kid...” He moaned, “But it sure is refreshing...”

“You're dancing around the subject, Matt.” Pidge raised a brow, “Calling me on a cell phone wasn't exactly easy to do, we both know that. I'm impressed. You'll have to talk me through the process some time. I'm guessing some anomaly local to you, a series of captured and heavily modified Galra communication relays, something Olkari...maybe all three...? Doesn't matter. Whatever you've got on your mind must be pretty important for you to pull this off.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it...?” Matt smiled with no attempt to conceal the pride he felt for his younger sibling. “Well, to put it bluntly...I'm a little concerned about a close _friend_ of yours...”

“Relax.” Pidge cut him off, “Hunk tells me he's got a cream for it. It's still pretty green, but the swelling is going down now.” She joked, “Or is this just you doing the over-protective big brother thing? I always wondered how awkward that would be... Guess I know now. _It's pretty awkward_...”

“Pidge...” Matt tried to get a word in.

“Seriously, you need to relax Matt. Lance and I are friends. _Just. Friends._ I'm hanging out here with him while he pretends he _isn't_ getting me a gift for tomorrow and I _pretend_ I don't know that...” She sighed, “I bet Shiro remembered, that or _you_ told him... I hope they aren't all _planning_ something...”

“Pidge, I get that you're just friends _right now_... But, I can't help but see certain _variables_ and draw certain... _conclusions_...” Matt looked thoughtful for a moment as he took another sip, “He wears your glasses, _our_ glasses. He borrows your phone, his arms unbroken. He seems to have a good working knowledge of your shampoo use. You two have that shared Gameflux in _his_ room. And that's before I even _mention_ the weird parts. Whenever we speak, there's always _some_ new thing he's said or done that gets under your skin. Nobody else comes up as frequently as he does. _Nobody._ Also, don't think I didn't notice that Junk Sculpture of him in your room, young lady...”

“He was just fetching them. He's much too insistent if I _don't_ let him borrow things. He seems to have an unhealthy fixation with _everyone's_ personal care. His room was the only one with space in to set it up. How exactly is the fact that he _annoys_ me proof of anything other than that he, y'know, _annoys_ me...?” She paused, “Also, I don't know what you mean by _junk sculpture_ but I do have a piece of trash that my space caterpillars seem to be attached to, sure... Is that everything?”

“Oh yeah, your _green and blue_ Space Caterpillars... Interesting choice of colours...” Matt hid his smirk badly.

“Look, Matt... I get what you're _insinuating_ but...” She began, only to be cut off.

Matt cleared his throat theatrically, “Lance. You are as dumb as a brick wall. And yet, I could _watch you all day._ You drive me crazy...” Matt chuckled, “I mean, I agree about the dumb as a wall part, but not so sure about the _gazing longingly at him all day_ part... And I'm pretty sure, in this context, the kind of crazy you're referring to isn't just a matter of annoyance... I'd ask if any of that was familiar, but your face already answered for you...”

Her only response was to blush harder. A little remark in Italian that was meant only for Lance. One that he wasn't supposed to understand a word of. Of course he'd try and get it translated. And who else would he be able to ask?! Stupid!

“So... No excuse...? No clever deflection...? No well-rehearsed lie...?”

Pidge exhaled at last and shook her head gently, “No...” She whined. Why'd she have to say that!? Why did Lance _remember_ it?! “Fine. I said that. Just please just tell me you _didn't tell Lance what it means_...?”

Matt shook his head, smiling reassuringly, “Nope, I wouldn't do that to you. Well, I did tell him the brick wall part... Like I said though. I am worried. I mean, I'm not _blind_ here Pidge. He's a good looking guy, you know I get that. But he's also a moron. Also, he's _older than you._ Based on how he's such a flirty show off, clearly does the majority of his thinking downstairs... Older guy, brain kept down south, my little sister seems to be _infatuated_ with him... You can understand my concern, right...?”

“Quiznak, I can't believe I'm having this conversation...” Pidge grumbled only barely beneath her breath, “I know this sounds cliché and if you're already assuming I'm being _manipulated_ by a sleazy older guy, probably exactly what you'd expect me to say... Thanks by the way for assuming I'm that stupid... That said... There's a lot more to Lance than being a flirt and a show off... That's almost like...his _mask..._ just a convenient persona. The thing he's ok with everyone seeing. Underneath that though...” The heat returned to her cheeks, “I know the guy, Matt. He's sweet, caring, kind, crazy devoted to his friends... And sure, he's not winning a Nobel prize for science any time soon... And he can irritate the _Wozblay_ out of me like nobody else in the universe... And yes, I get sick of his flirting with _almost_ every girl in the universe. I get sick of his bragging and show-boating sure, but I get sick of his paradoxical lack of self belief even more... Point is, he's also one of my closest friends... You don't have to worry, Matt. I'm not about to do something stupid because of this dumb crush...”

Matt smiled, “Pidge, I trust your judgement. I trust you. I know you'd kick his ass if he was to _try something_... Honestly, despite my concerns, having spoken to him a couple of times...he doesn't seem _so bad_ a guy, just dense... _Neutron star dense_... I guess that all I really need to know is...do _you_ trust him?”

“Yeah.” Pidge nodded firmly, “Completely.”

“Then that's good enough for me.” Matt breathed a sigh of relief, “But if that ever changes...”

“I know, I know, you'll set Shiro on him...” Pidge suddenly had a worrying image of needing to have this same or very similar conversation with Space Dad. That would get weird. Then, _actual Dad..._ The thought of her still missing Father hit her heart hard and suddenly. She forced one sad thought aside for another, “Matt...” She paused, “Do you think it could ever be... _mutual_...?”

Matt shrugged, “Who knows? Oh, by the way... _On your six_...”

Pidge only had a moment to respond before a cheery voice behind her called, “Yo, Pidge!” She was still surprised, despite Matt's warning, especially given that she wasn't exactly being whisper quiet about him a few moments before. The sudden shocked reaction sent her phone hurtling over her shoulders with a whimper of Quiznak.

Lance, without much effort at all, raised a casual hand and caught the tumbling device easily. Flipping it upright in one smooth move, he nodded to the screen, “Hey Matt.” Pidge was, she couldn't deny, a little impressed by his dexterity. Just a little. She was also picking up on the slight waver of nervousness in Lance's tone as he interacted with her brother. Obviously Matt had turned the thumbscrews on Lance as well.

“So, we meet again young mister...” Matt trailed off, “Say Lance, what _is_ your surname...?”

“Uh...” The younger boy looked puzzled, “It's McClain... Why...?”

“You're _kidding_ , right...?” Matt ignored Lance's question, “Actually McClane...? Like _Dirty Vest Man_ McClane _..._?”

Lance's expression turned instantly to one of curiosity, “It's not spelled the same... But...you know Dirty Vest Man...?”

“Of course. The first film is like the _best_ Christmas movie...” Matt chuckled.

“I know, right!” Lance beamed, “I didn't figure you'd be one for the classics, Matt...”

“Oh boy...” Pidge groaned, “You're bonding over lame old movies...”

“Dirty Vest Man is _not_ lame!” The two young men protested as one.

Pidge rolled her eyes.

“You might spend a _long_ while trying to convince her of that, Lance... I should know. _I've_ tried since she was up to my knee... It could take months, years... Heck, it could take you a whole _lifetime_...” Matt laughed, “Scary right...? Life with Pidge. Or is that something that you _could_ live with...?”

Lance just clammed up, not entirely sure how to respond. His mind meanwhile was playing out the oddest scenario that involved a blend of white picket fences in suburbia, Green and Red Lions parked in a driveway and a small brood of youngsters hurrying to a school bus outside, their very familiar parents waving them off. Coran may have just been right about the moustache...

Snatching the phone from her statuesque and statue-still companion, Pidge smiled fiercely at her brother, “Bye, Matt. You've still got a planet to liberate, right...? Nice chat, _Bye..._ ”

“You two enjoy your da _aAAaaAaa_ ate!” Matt's teasing tone and laughter quickly cut off as Pidge hung up.

Lance just smiled to himself. Maybe he _could_ live with that.

“McClain, you're _late_ and I'm _ravenous_...” Pidge glared at him, “Lunch me.”

“You're the boss...” Lance saluted. “Didn't mean to keep you waiting, just needed to drop some stuff off at the Flight Pod...”

“You left us enough room to actually sit in there still, right...?” Pidge sighed, “ _Right_...?”

Lance shrugged, “Could be a tight squeeze I guess...” He wasn't entirely kidding he realised, thinking back to the sheer volume of bags he had stuffed in. Maybe he was overdoing it just a touch he worried, “So, what am I getting us...?”

Pidge nodded over to a kiosk that had been infuriating her with it's greasy yet delicious scent. The kind of aroma that your irresponsible stomach says yes to, but your arteries, kidneys and waistline rightly fear. “I'm not in the mood for healthy right now.”

Looking over to what closely resembled a burger joint, Lance grimaced. “I'm not sure I can, Pidge... Last time I even _thought_ about having a cheeseburger...all I could think about was how disappointed poor Kaltenecker would be in me...”

“...” Pidge smirked, “You _Dork_...” Though she wouldn't admit that the same thought had crossed her mind as well, “Sweet of you though... But don't worry, see the mascot over there? Not just for show...” She pointed to a stylised smiling cartoon of what looked to be an strange hybrid of a beetle, spider and grasshopper offering a tray of food. “Nothing _close_ to a cow in these.”

“Isn't it kinda dark that he wants us to eat his mushed up buddies...?” Lance paled. “Dude's a psycho...”

“They pay him well and he doesn't ask questions...” Pidge chuckled malevolently. “Don't forget, the closest approximation they have to cheese is pronounced _Lack-ta-rows,_ got it? Lactarose. You screw up and buy Space Gherkins again and I will not be impressed... I hate _Earth_ Gherkins enough, but Space ones...they're just _rancid..._ and gritty...bleuch!”

“I accidentally order _one_ capital ship's worth of space gherkins, _one time, months ago_... And _again_ I never get to live it down... Do you guys all keep a _list_ of my screw ups just to tease me with them later...?” Lance groaned. “Besides, Coran liked them...”

“Sure, but nobody liked what happened to Coran once he was done digesting them, did they...?” Pidge shuddered at the memory. “Least of all Coran... Also, we don't need lists. Your screw ups can be quite memorable... Though in the interests of being fair... They aren't _quite_ as frequent as they used to be...”

“ _Almost_ thank you...” Lance replied, “For that _almost_ compliment...”

Pidge blanked his sarcasm, “So, that's a chitin-crunch patty double stack with _lack-ta-rows_ and no sauce, _Large_ meal... And make sure the drink has nearly _illegal_ levels of sugar and caffeine...”

“Man, you _are_ hungry...” Lance's gaze she noticed, darted over her, “Where do you hide it all...?”

“Metabolism, exercise, training, the whole _defending the universe_ thing...? Take your pick...” She part mumbled, part grumbled. She was not entirely sure how to take that very unsubtle scan of her. “Go on, _hop to it_... Still hungry here...”

Lance returned her command with one of his patented smiles. The sort that maybe sparkled in just the right light and just the right angle. The kind that surely _always_ sparkled in his mind at least. With a flash of the ever ready finger guns, followed by a very unexpected _wink_ catching Pidge off guard, he walked purposefully away. Every step he took stealthily scrutinised. The occasional glance over his shoulder also did not go unnoticed.

A few new variables to consider. Lance, or at least all the evidence suggested it was Lance and not a Galra android, clone, robot, replicant, cyborg or shape shifter. The mannerisms were too good to be any of those. So, until such evidence came to light to contradict this observation; Lance was Lance. And Lance had during this one day done the following; 1) Asked her out to see a movie. It was _not_ a date, though he had joked it could be. 2) Informed her that her alter ego was a cute guy. The disguise for Cadet Gunderson to all intents and purposes was what she was still wearing, hairstyle and all. 3) Was obviously buying Birthday Gifts for her. Lots of them. Almost too many... Much as she hated to admit it, that shirt _would_ look good on her, he seemed to be putting thought into it... 4) Did not immediately react in horror at the idea of spending their lives together. Or maybe, that was _frozen_ in horror...? Could be... Ok, scratch four. Actual 4) Had just checked her out...and _winked_ at her. 5) Glancing over at him again, she confirmed, he had a really cute butt.

Five was not strictly a new discovery of the day, but Pidge's brain decided it was worthy of note all the same. Worthy even of at least another glance and probably of further exhaustive research. The problem with all these observations was that they were all easily interpreted in multiple ways, because, Lance was Lance. It could be that he was just being _Lance_ about the whole thing, teasing her, not taking it at all seriously...it could even be that crazy _other_ scenario...or maybe she was wrong about him being a Galra infiltrator...? Who could say for sure...? Just about the only thing Pidge could be absolutely certain of was five. So _very_ much five. She had taken many mental images to prove it and jeans didn't hide that particular truth. Pidge offered a silent thank you to the honesty of jeans.

“Penny for your thoughts...?” Lance's comforting tone broke her contemplation, she hadn't even noticed him return.

“My thoughts are worth a _lot_ more than that...” She responded non-committally, already grabbing at the meal before Lance had even set the tray down. She took a long and deeply satisfied slurp on a cold sugary syrup-soda that tasted about as pink and artificial as it looked. It was just sweet enough to avoid being truly awful and it was exactly what she needed.

“Probably true...” Lance somewhat more carefully unwrapped his mashed insect burger, compared to Pidge's frenzied tearing through the wrapper and box alike. The waxed, grease and steam resistant paper was apparently a universal constant of cheap fast food. “But you looked worried. Anxious even... Just got _me_ worried is all...”

“Honestly...” Pidge struggled to relay her excuse between mouthfuls, “Just hungry...” She peeled a strip free from a chunky extraterrestrial fry, not French of course, for it was very far away from France. Overly salty and still tasting very much like Earth potato but with the stringy fibrous quality of cooked chicken, “I can sometimes get a little moody when I'm hungry...”

“I'd sometimes noticed. You have that habit of missing meals during your projects, which obviously leaves you hungry.” Lance smiled, “Why do you think I usually bring snacks to game night...?”

“As an offering of course.” Pidge shrugged, “Hoping that your sacrifice of snacks, your _snackrifice_ if you like _,_ will appease me so I won't kick your ass so hard...”

“Aren't offerings and sacrifices usually made to gods or _goddesses_...?” His query turning to teasing, “And I thought _I_ was supposed to be the Paladin with the big head.”

Chewing in contemplation, Pidge offered a rebuttal, “Some cultures made offerings to their island volcano too, if pop culture is to be believed... I'd say I was more like that, personally. Not so much a goddess – though feel free to disagree – more a force of nature. Heck, my Lion has a _vine laser._ Can't get much more force of nature than that, right...?”

“So...you're saying that you'll sit there, silently burning, appearing totally calm and then you suddenly explode...?” Lance nodded, “Sounds about right to me...”

“That so...?” Pidge sucked at her syrupy pseudo-soda menacingly, “Well, then that means you're playing with fire...”

“Hello? Red's got his very own mouth mounted _lava laser..._? Playing with fire is pretty much my job out there.” He smirked, absent-mindedly playing with his still unopened straw, “I'd like to think that I'm getting _pretty_ good at it...” In a flash, he had taken the straw to his lips and fired it's plastic casing. It struck true, falling precisely at the bridge of Pidge's nose, “Bullseye...”

Fixing him with a glare that would terrify a raging bull, Pidge pushed herself away from the table. “Excuse me for just one second, would you Lance...?” Her tone was almost deathly as she stormed away.

It wasn't exactly rare for Lance to be left confused by Pidge, but he also knew her well enough to see this was mostly her kidding around. The smile she had badly hidden told him so, that and the flash of inspiration behind her eyes meant she was up to something. He watched as she hid herself behind the usual kind of wooden box that served as bin, condiment dispenser and tray table in most fast food joints and food courts the universe over. Even this, her odd quirks, made his heart grow warmer, the edges of a smile prompted by that joyful feeling. Everything he knew about her, he found simply adorable. Everything he didn't know, he simply wanted to learn. At this particular moment though what he learned was twofold. One, that Pidge always carried duct tape with her. Two, when she needed to, she could work _fast_.

Twirling the hastily constructed contraption to a steady spin, Pidge took aim at her prey. “Behold! Strawmageddon!” Pidge declared with the gusto of a mad scientist. It was a spiral of plastic, a long line of straws coiled and taped together into a crude looking Gatling gun barrel, spinning freely on an axis of yet more straws at the centre. Still twirling with one hand and steadying with the other, Pidge blew hard into the rapidly rotating straws.

Lance barely had a moment to react as a cloud of transparent straw sheaths blasted toward him with still more following behind. There was no escape. He swallowed an ET Fry, opened his arms wide and prepared to meet his fate. In Lance's mind, the moment passed in extreme slow motion, an epic orchestral score punctuating every impact with a thudding boom of a drum. In reality, the flittering and fluttering projectiles simply rested and nestled mostly in his hair, hood and lap. A few managed to stick to his smiling lips and a few more now obscured his vision as they drooped from his scalp.

“Don't start a war that you can't finish, McClain...” Pidge blew the last few misfired straw sheaths into his face. Placing Strawmageddon aside, she quickly snapped a picture with her phone. This was going in a particularly well hidden folder of hers labelled, _Lance looking so quiznaking cute_ which as you might imagine, was very full indeed. She took her seat once more and returned to her meal, satisfied she had made her point.

With the sort of tossing of the head and hair you'd expect from a shampoo commercial and a few brushes of his hands over his body, Lance was _mostly_ straw sheath free. He huffed one more away from his still smiling lips. Other patrons of the food court were giving them a combination of looks and glares ranging from disgust to amusement. One even reminded him of Hunk in the middle of one of his _that's so cute I might just burst_ expressions. An employee of the bug-burger joint looked over at their mess in despair. Lance just shrugged them all off, returning to his meal with a small and heartfelt laugh. His laughter was soon warmly echoed by his companion.

“You going to eat those...?” Pidge queried with a pointed finger to Lance's fries. Somehow she had already inhaled nearly the entirety of her meal already. Her pleading eyes seemed to almost grow larger as she gazed over the rim of her drink, taking a long and eventually loudly gurgling suck.

“Yes.” Lance met her gaze unflinchingly, “I am. So stop it with the puppy eyes...”

Pidge huffed, “Fine...” She began to idly spin Strawmageddon, “You are _such_ a slow eater...”

Lance nodded, “It's called savouring. You should try it sometime.” He added his next questions casually, “Why you in such a rush, anyway? You _that_ desperate to watch a movie with me...?”

Another huff and this time a glare. Lance found himself puzzled and pleased by the merest hint of red, “Sure. If only because it would at _least_ keep you quiet for a while...” Another idle spin of the spiral straw sheath launcher, “You know, it might be a hassle, but I'm _entirely_ willing to reload this thing...”

“Looking at it, I wonder if it'd be any good for soap bubbles...” Lance shook his head, “Probably too old now to think about that sort of stuff though...”

“Funnily enough...” Pidge smiled a little shyly, “Back when I made Strawmageddon Version 1.0, I must have been, five or six maybe? I had that same idea. Problem was always getting the angles right. If you got them wrong, you'd end up with a face covered in soapy water. Or a mouth full. Though, when it worked, it worked pretty well. I'm sure I could work out the kinks these days. And no, you're absolutely not too old to want to do that still. You don't stop playing because you grow old, you grow old because you stop playing...”

“I like that.” Lance agreed, “My Dad would always be the playful one... Mom joked he only had kids as an excuse to never grow up himself. Dad would just nod... Guess I can pretend I'm getting my own Dad practice in...” Catching himself as he thought more and more of home, Lance shoved those thoughts aside, “Sorry, probably not a great topic, thinking of home...”

Pidge's kind smile settled his nerves quickly, “It's fine. I actually like hearing more about your family... Makes me want to meet them, honestly. See first hand the household that produced you. It'd make for an interesting study.”

“Same here... Well, not so much the _study_ part...” Lance paused, “But, the meeting the family part... Seeing where you grew up... You'd probably want to hide your teddy bears though, I'm sure you had a few somehow... It'd be nice to know for sure...” He was thankful for the remainder of his meal to focus himself on as he looked nervously away.

“Well...not so much bears, but I did have a plush Albert Einstein if that counts...? You'd squeeze his hand and he'd explain general relativity to you in a song...” She smiled playfully before softly singing, “E it stands for Energy, M is is Mass and then comes C, the constant of the speed of light...” She stopped herself, suddenly a little more shy, “And...it...goes on like that...”

“It worries me that I'm not 100% sure if you're kidding or not...” He looked thoughtful, “Also, I think I want to hear you sing more often, y'know, when you feel comfortable to do it...”

Pidge nodded silently, before adding almost whisper softly, “Well, maybe you will...” She cleared her throat.

Lance finished a final morsel of bug-burger, before starting the necessary clear up. Reluctantly, he passed Pidge the rest of his Fries. “There you go, bottomless pit...” They were gone almost as soon as he handed them over. “Not exactly proving me wrong there...” Pidge responded by throwing the now scrunched up empty fry bag at him. “So... You know the way to the ummm... Space Movies...Or Space Theatre...? Space Cinema...?” Coran may have been right about the space prefixes.

“You're not forgetting something are you...?” Pidge gestured back over to the stalls with a nod, “ _Pretty sure you are..._ ”

“Wait, you're _still_ hungry...?” Lance's tone perhaps a little more stunned than he intended, “You want a dessert or something...? Place over there does something that _kinda_ looks like if Ice Cream...or _clay..._ Looks like they've got that Olkari syrup you like...”

“Well...” Pidge was surprised he remembered that particular confection preference, “Actually if you're offering one then I probably wouldn't say no... _But..._ ” She nodded even harder, “Don't forget _what you came here for_ right...?”

Lance shook his head, “You lost me.”

“ _Parcel At Sals?_ Does that ring any bells...?” Pidge groaned. “The one thing Hunk really wanted...?”

“I...have _absolutely_ no idea what you could _possibly_ mean...” Lance nervously responded. He figured that if the coded message was easy enough for him, Pidge would have seen it in an instant. “However, on an _entirely_ unrelated note... I'm going to just...drop in on Sal and see how he's doing... And if I should come back with anything, please ignore it...”

“Uhuh.” Pidge smirked, “ _Real Smooth_. Also, you're coming back with that almost maybe ice cream stuff, swimming in syrup.”

“Oh boy... Guess I am...” Lance's complaining tone entirely a joke. “And sprinkles of course....”

“Only if by sprinkles you mean those little chunks of stuff that looks like fudge!” Pidge confirmed as he wandered off. She smiled to herself, enjoying the chance to confirm Five yet again.

 


	3. Shopping Day Afternoon - Seems Quite Dateish

Many years from now, Pidge realised, she would have to dedicate a considerable amount of time to the study and attempt to understand the apparently subconscious monoculture of the universe. Some kind of sociological and biological commonality between the humanoid and _not_ so humanoid races clearly existed on a far deeper level than anyone was willing to admit. Perhaps even a fundamental connection between minds even over the span of many millions of miles was possible, even likely, when one considers the constant nature of Quintessence. Not only did Quintessence exist within the Universe, within every planet and star and person, but also existed between, around and surrounding the universe. As much as something can be 'surrounded' as we understand the term, when trying to conceptualise anywhere between 4 and 40 additional spatial dimensions beyond Length, Breadth and Width that is.

What led her to consider this mind bending cosmic conundrum were two factors. One, she was distracting herself from the reality of a host of angry butterflies that had taken residence in her stomach recently. Or at least, that is what her nervousness felt like. Two, she found herself baffled by a fact that until now she had been ignoring. Here, light centuries, maybe even light millennia away from Earth, stood in a mall that could have dropped out of any city on Earth, she was staring at a cinema that - with the exception of a few extraterrestrial languages - could have just as easily been like any other back home. It was, when she stopped to think about it, extraordinarily unlikely, and yet in defiance of that fact, here they were. The cashier was a pale and gaunt creature who was more eyes than face. Each one of a tight cluster of ten human sized totally sky blue eyes on each side of its head was distracted by its own magazine. The creature sat in it's transparent ticket booth looking utterly bored. There was no queue of people, no swarm to contend with, yet here Lance and Pidge had stood for longer than either might be willing to admit, nervously holding off on their approach.

“Looks almost exactly like a movie theatre I used to go to back home.” Lance said aloud, breaking the awkward silence.

“Huh. That's funny.” Pidge remarked, “I was just thinking _roughly_ the same thing.”

“I never realised, but there's a _lot_ out here that's a _lot_ like Earth!” Lance gestured to a poster, “I mean, I swear I've _seen_ that movie before. Just the cast had less eyes and tentacles. And this place, it's like any mall you'd find on Earth, isn't it?” He looked steadily more and more confused, “You're the smartest person I've ever met. Any idea how the heck would that happen?”

“Yes Lance, I probably am the smartest person you've ever met. Thanks for noticing. But, I've not got a _solid_ idea yet, just a lot of theories. Maybe some kind of memetic rather than genetic version of panspermia, or a universal collective unconscious? But those of course are extremely _broad_ in scope and I'd need to narrow them down to something a little more workable.” She looked to him nodding along, “And I appreciate you paying attention even when you don't know what I'm talking about.”

“Well, I follow bits and pieces sometimes.” Lance shrugged, “Like, I saw a pretty stupid horror movie called _Panspermia_ , which was all about aliens showing up on an asteroid that could conquer humanity by being better suited to Earth. They explained the theory in that. Kinda blew my mind, the idea that all life on Earth could have been from outer space. Then again, I know at least one guy now who _is_ half from space. Makes you wonder how _that_ was possible. And before you say, I know, when a Daddy human and Mommy Galra love each other very much.”

“I know what you're getting at, Lance. Genetic factors.” Pidge began to ponder the possibility of a common universal ancestor.

“Right, if you say so. Now, as for memetics? Sounds like it's all about memes, shared ideas so, like, Memetic Panspermia would be if memes somehow spread from space? Man, that'd be crazy. And I guess collective unconscious must be maybe, shared dreams or when people think a little alike just by being the same species? That make any sense? I'm probably getting it wrong and definitely only understand it on a basic level.”

“I'm surprised actually and sorry for underestimating you. Honestly I thought you'd laugh like a dumb school kid at the word Panspermia. You're not getting any of it _wrong_ really.” She smiled kindly up to him, “You're full of surprises recently, Lance. Pleasant ones at that.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, “Nice to know you think so. Though, to be fair, I _did_ laugh when I saw the film title the first time so you're not _entirely_ wrong about that.” Lance looked to their feet as Pidge chuckled beside him, “You know, we're probably going to make a dent in the floor if we stand here much longer.”

“Right, yeah, sure...” Pidge nodded, “I'm just...deciding... I guess...”

“How about we just pick one at random?” Lance suggested with a shrug, “That one looks pretty cool.”

“Well then that _isn't_ random.” Pidge shook her head, “You're making a choice based on the poster. Look, they've got. . . 15 different films showing. So...” With a few taps and swipes, Pidge produced another app that Lance didn't recognise. “This _truly_ random number generator might help. Now, _just_ need to make a note of the names.” She looked to an unrecognised text on one of the posters, “Or at least a brief description of the promotional art. Hold on a second or two there, Lance.”

Lance shuffled from one foot to the other, watching Pidge's thumbs tap rapidly away from just above her head. “ I don't know that I'd call that one three guys stare in disbelief. Maybe three people look confused?” Lance paused as Pidge retyped, “Stop watching me work you quiznaking... Ouch. Ok though, fine.” He turned away, to find himself face to face with a somewhat familiar and quite rotund Galra riding a comical looking single passenger hover vehicle. “Ah, Wozblay _no._ ”

“No need to be so worried!” Varkon grinned, though despite his obvious attempt to appear congenial, his smile seemed almost predatory, “If anything, I should be thanking you space pirates turned stunt doubles! What a turn around in your fates, eh?”

“Stunt doubles?” Lance opened his mouth to correct the confused Mall Cop, Pidge just raised a hand and shook her head.

“Of course! I saw the pair of you in the Voltron Show even back in your first act!” Varkon's grin turned to a knowing smirk and wink, “Now, I'm not a fool. I _know_ those Paladins those Enemies of The Empire. They're a canny bunch, a smart group, cautious and calculating. Am I right?”

“Your powers of perception are incredible.” Pidge grumbled.

“So of course.” His conspiratorial nonsense continued, placing an arm about Lance's shoulders, “They're not going to show their _real_ faces to the entire universe are they? Don't answer, boy, it's ah one of them hypertorical enquiries.”

Pidge opened her mouth to correct the confused Mall Cop, Lance just raised a hand and shook his head.

“So of course, they got you guys in. Former convicts with nothing to lose, right? Who cares if a bunch of ex criminals get spotted out in the open? Give you decent danger pay – how else could you have afforded all that _stuff_ eh boy? Anyway, you act as bait. No harm, no foul. But the _real_ Paladins. The team of Altean Super Soldiers they kept on ice? Their identities are kept _safe and hidden_.”

“Altean _Super Soldiers_...?” Lance raised an eyebrow, Pidge merely chuckled.

“Right. Genetically engineered, cybernetically enhanced super soldiers made by the Alteans. And now after 10,00 years they're free! Free to conquer the righteous Galra Empire. It's the Zarkon's honest _truth_ , you need to listen to FactFight! Dr. Axna E'el J'onzz, he'll wake you up! Wake you both up.” Varkon lowered his voice even further, “Just be careful around bottled water. There's chemicals in it to turn your amphibians _funny_.”

“Can't be having _funny_ amphibians, can we?” Pidge mockingly agreed, before adding beneath her breath, “Kermit would have too much competition.” Lance snickered to himself.

“See?” Varkon agreed enthusiastically, “ _She_ gets it. That one's a keeper, boy. Anyway. Thanks to the way I handled your little piratical insurrection and my foresight in allowing the Voltron show here letting me see through your little act. I mean, what kind of female is called _Keith?_ That was a big giveaway. They like to hide in plain sight, the Alteaminati. Anyway, I got a promotion! I get this extra silver star on my badge, extra wax for my _ride._ ” He patted his laziness enabling hover vehicle lovingly, “A bigger office _and best of all_ I get additional _responsibility!_ ”

“That's _great._ ” Lance struggled to sound enthusiastic, “Glad you're so happy.”

“That _promotion_ of yours come with a pay rise?” Pidge asked bluntly.

“Justice, dear former Space Pirate, is it's own reward.” Varkon drew closer to them briefly, “Just tell your _Universalist_ masters that we're onto them. But until then, you all have a pleasant day!”

“We'll be sure to tell them you send your love.” Pidge rolled her eyes as Varkon hovered away.

“That guy's a few Lions short of Voltron.” Lance frowned, as they wandered finally toward the ticket booth, “Maybe six?”

“All things considered, it could have gone worse.” Pidge tapped the last few inputs, “And _here_ we go, looks like we're seeing... Crazy looking twelve people, all leaping either from or into an explosion. Honestly, I'm pretty sure he's a transreality comet short of Voltron, didn't even get as far as deciding to use it for Lions.”

“Well, he did at least get one thing right.” Lance gestured to their selection, “Two tickets for...I'm sorry but I'm not even going to try and pronounce that!” The cashier remained silent through the entire exchange. “We're not about to walk into something without subtitles are we?” Lance held the foyer door open. Pidge pointedly frowned, then opened and walked through her own choice of door beside it.

“Pretty sure it's all going to be in the language that everyone seems to speak that's disturbingly close to English.” Pidge shrugged, “And, do I even want to know what the one thing he got right was? Funny Frogs? Alteaminati?”

“Oh, that you're a keeper.” Lance replied scanning the prices of the snack food. “I thought that was obvious? Hey, you _did_ say theses prices are supposed to have been _reasonable,_ right? Am I reading them wrong...?”

“Uh...” Pidge found herself frustratingly flustered. A _keeper_...? The connotations of possession aside, she liked that. “No. You're reading them fine. Theses _are_ reasonable prices though if you look at the size of the portions. Back home a single piece of popcorn and a swallow of soda would set you back a kidney. Also you do get what he meant by _keeper_ right?”

“Oh sure!” Lance confirmed confidently, “You're someone we want to hang onto. Someone to keep. A valued member of the team, a good friend. Let's face it, who wouldn't want to keep our resident genius around? It's not as though I assumed he was talking about a _lighthouse, crypt_ or even _dungeon_ keeper, y'know?” Lance examined the verdant hued popcorn, kept warm by a lightbulb and resting behind a greasy transparent window, “Which size you looking at?”

Pidge nodded, “Right... Sure, sure, that makes sense...” She hid her small grimace of disappointment, “Well, honestly given the length of the film and the better value I'd probably go for the Gargantuan. But, I'll have to take the Huge instead.”

“How come?” Lance looked to her puzzled, “You know it's my treat right?”

“Sure...” Pidge looked away with the mildest of irritation, “Even if it wasn't, affording it isn't the issue. But a box that size, sat on my lap, factoring in the additional popcorn on top as well?” She sighed, “It would possibly, _probably_ block my view.”

Lance shook his head, “No way you're _that_ petite, Pidge.” He glanced to the Gargantuan box then quickly re-evaluated his estimate, wisely choosing not to tell Pidge so. “Hmmm. Ok, well. How about we share the Colossal?” Lance knew this would mean sacrificing his popcorn preference, but a happy Pidge took precedence. “It looks big enough that we could stand it between us and _still_ be able to reach it.”

Pidge nodded, “Your spatial awareness seems pretty much on point. It would be ideal really, except, I have rather particular taste when it comes to popcorn that you may not be willing to tolerate.”

“Please don't tell me you want that gross yellow liquid they pretend is butter?” Lance gagged, “Yeuch.”

“Ewww, no! I'm not some kind of Quiznaking monster.” Pidge frowned, “It seeps out of the box, it stains everything, it smells worse than it tastes. Just _no._ Though I guess this time, I'll go with whatever you want.”

“You sure?” Lance smiled, “Kind of you. But, you'd probably be the first person willing to share my Sweet and Salty mix.”

Pidge's eyes lit up, staring in wonder at Lance as she whispered, “Quiznak, just when I think you can't get any more _perfect_...”

“Didn't catch that.” Lance raised an eyebrow, “You say I've got some kind of _defect?_ ”

“Nonono!” Pidge blurted, “I just said sweet and salty sounds, well it's _perfect_. It's actually my _first_ choice! The salt offsets and enhances the sweetness, the sweetness mutes the saltiness. There's a reason salted caramel is so popular. Rambling... _Rambling_...”

“Rambling.” Lance agreed, “Pidge you know what this means, right?” He placed his hands gently to her shoulders, a sweet and earnest smile gracing his handsome features, “You and me? We must be Sweet and Salty Soulmates.”

Turning to a beetroot, even going so far as to wish the ground would swallow her, Pidge murmured, “S-Soulmates? Seems a _bit_ of a strong word, for it! Right?”

“Not at all.” Lance spoke softly, tenderly, “I've searched all of my life to find that special someone to share my popcorn mix with. And now, I've finally found you.” His kind smile turned to a cheeky grin, “Besides, that triple alliteration is irresistible. Wait, would that make it a-triple-literation?”

“Keep this up and it'll mean a _dislocation_.” Her red beet-features fading to a mild pink annoyance and finally a carefree laugh.

“Alright.” Lance smirked, a large portion of him wishing he'd not turned that into a joke, even as he echoed her laughter, “And are you thinking the Bucket, the Barrel or the Boatload of your usual caffeinated sugar goo?”

“I'm thinking the Bucket, but maybe that ice slush stuff. As it melts it'll last longer. I think I'll go with Blue.”

“Pidge.” Lance chuckled, “That's pretty forward of you, but I'm Red now.” This only prompted a slap to his arm. Lance laughed it off as he approached the counter, manned by what could have passed for the identical twin to the cashier though looking even more bored. “Two Buckets of that slush stuff. She can't resist Blue and I'm a little partial to Green myself.” The serving creature said nothing as it inputted the order. Pidge meanwhile smiled to herself, “And can we also get a mix of sweet and salty in the Colossal size? And I don't suppose you've ever heard of _peanuts_ have you?” The multiple eyes of the overworked and underpaid attendant all rolled before it nodded to the price. Lance shrugged and paid.

Between the two of them, they managed to awkwardly crab-shuffle and guide each other bytugs at each other's clothing. A nervous yanking of tickets from tight jeans pockets, that had brought a hand perilously close to a hands-on examination of Pidge's recent fact five. Arriving at their screen, a deft and gentle kicking open of a door, the two rustling and shuffling in the gloom. Finally, Pidge purposefully striding toward the row that she assured Lance was the optimal position for viewing. The theatre seemed largely empty except for a handful of groups scattered about the place. Lance, still essentially hugging the absurd box of popcorn and growing tired of the bag with Sal's Parcel bumping him in the ribs was beginning to feel the nerves from the reality of the situation kick in. He had wanted to drop the delivery back at the pod, but he felt like this had waited enough already. He breathed slowly, deliberately, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Despite the anticipation, this was no big deal. No big deal, right? A few hours of totally not a date, totally not resisting the urge to do the yawning arm trick. No big deal. Pidge came to a halt before him.

“Here.” She placed the drinks into each of their cup holders, “Optimum distance from the screen, ideal acoustics. It _should_ even account for the height disparity. Close enough to the doors that should a bathroom break be necessary, then with a decent run you'd only miss a few minutes at most. Floor's a little stickier than I'd like, but that's just cinemas for you.”

Lance sat himself down gently, “Pidge.” He patted the seat beside him, “Much as I appreciate the lengths you're going to, just sit yourself down here and relax, ok? You might start making _me_ nervous.” More, he would not admit. _More_ nervous.

“Ok, great!” Pidge sat herself a little too quickly down, an expression somewhere between mania and the pretence of being very very calm. “Just going to sit here. Calm and collected. Just me and my buddy Lance at a movie. Why would that make anyone _nervous?_ ” She grabbed for a fistful of popcorn, shoving it into her mouth if only to shut herself up, chewing it all was hard.

From a few rows back, there came a low and rumbling, “Ssssssshhhhh!” It could heard even over the obnoxiously loud trailer for a zany slapstick comedy about _meeting the in-laws_ that resulted in ever more painful looking scenarios.

“Some being takes their trailers pretty seriously.” Lance grumbled, before looking with concern to the girl beside him.

Goose flesh, that was the first sign. Arms and legs alike. Pidge looked above her to a very well hidden vent in the ceiling. Not simply well hidden, but entirely silent as it did it's work. She was sat in both the best and the worst position now, being blasted by the air conditioning. Not strong enough to even ruffle her hair, but a cumulative cold that would only end up making her teeth chatter. Her brain burst into activity. The solution would need to involve some movement of course, maybe pulling out Strawmageddon, get a little kinetic energy flowing as she idly span it. Maybe tap and move her feet as quietly as she could? Other more extreme options involved a summoned Bayard helping to create a tiny fire, though that was a last resort. As she pondered this, something soft and warm violated her personal space.

As it slid down over her shoulders and back, she felt herself turn tense. Soon, the soothing something came to rest upon her shoulders, a warm and squishy feeling cupping the back of her neck. The scent of it made her head swim a little with it's unmistakable familiarity. Dark wood and subtle floral accents that at one time had been a throat throttling _way too much._ Through necessity to preserve it, less was now used, so it turned to the subtle heady scent she would forever affix to the boy beside her. Weight announced itself on her shoulders, she felt her body enveloped by the warm sensation, guided around her by a pair of familiar hands. Looking down, it could even cover her legs if she sat cross-legged upon the folding, red cushioned chair. Two very long fabric rectangles flopped before her and she poked her arms through. Warm from both the fabric and his body. Soft and filled with his scent. Pidge turned her head gently to her left and there Lance was sat, smiling warmly back at her, his jacket, so wonderfully comfortable, was now wrapped about her.

“You looked cold.” He said softly, “You ok now?”

Pidge nodded rapidly even as a new fact caught her eye. Lance's baseball tee. It had lost none of it's vibrant whites and blues, she _knew_ that Coran would sooner shave his moustache than allow their clothes to shrink in the wash. Yet all the same, back at the Garrison, that shirt had been if not baggy then at least loose on Lance. It had just a little give here and there. Now though. _Damn._ He was no swollen muscle mass of a Mr Universe, thank goodness, but he had progressed his body beyond simply well toned to _well defined_ and possibly even _sculpted_ in places _._ The once loose but now tight shirt left just enough to the imagination to make the imagination run absolutely wild. “Uhuh... F...F _uu_... _Fine_...” Pidge turned away, realising she was staring, desperately hoping she wasn't in fact drooling. “Thanks...”

Lance was, she was glad of it this time, utterly oblivious _,_ “No problem.”

The shusher struck again from the shadows, Pidge and Lance growing silent for a short while.

Ignoring a trailer that was busy trying to make _in a galaxy at war_ sound like anything other than her day job, Pidge quickly began to realise that Lance's arm was now an issue. It was large enough to dominate the tiny arm-rest between them. And damn it, _she_ wanted to have two arms rests. There may be a solution though. “Hold on a tick, Lance. I want your arm rest.” Grasping his arm at the wrist, she levered it upwards, raised it above and behind her head and moved it to rest about her shoulders. The arm rest was now hers. She could in fact also now lean against Lance's shoulder, which proved quite a comfortable bonus. “This ok? Comfy?” She asked him in a soft whisper.

Lance just nodded, she could feel it as he rested his head to hers. His face seemed oddly warm, but pleasant.

“Yeah.” She agreed as the opening credits began to roll, “It _is_ ok isn't it?”

* * * * *

Half of a varga had passed. Filtering slowly from the theatre, a motley collection of aliens from various different races. Some slithered, some flapped, some skittered and some undulated. Others quivered, one stomped, a smaller one released a terrible stench to communicate with it's friend. All of them were in their own ways mumbling, grumbling, frowning and soon making demands that their price of admission be refunded. Two Vargas later and the last of the audience came stumbling out, their expressions mirroring a shared feeling of shell shock. One frowned in contemplation, his face resembling the kind of look a toddler might offer a university text book. The other began to fume, in the way a PHD may look upon the overly simplified versions of their field in a cartoon. Both looked to the other and burst out laughing, the smaller propping herself up against the larger.

Gasping for air, wiping away a tear, Lance was first to speak, “What the actual _quiznak_ did we just watch, Pidge? How!? How did the flying pyramids make sense!? They just showed up! Why was the lead character some hobo-looking vampire? What _kind_ of movie was it even?!”

“As far as I can tell.” Pidge responded, brushing away popcorn crumbs from a brown jacket several sizes too large and finally calming her laughter to a dull glow in her smile, “The pyramids were linked to the main villain, loosely though and they were setting up a sequel? If I was reading the opening credits right, the lead was also the producer, director and writer. Great combo. The closest thing we have on Earth would be a kung fu movie, a Shakespearian tragedy all mixed in with a romantic comedy?”

“Ok... So two questions. One, how come we were the only ones laughing?”

“I don't think the comedy part was _entirely_ intentional.”

“And how the heck does the 100ft tall six headed dragon monster fit in?”

Pidge paused, “I'd forgotten about the stupid kaiju.” She groaned, “Ok, well you know how we thought the lead character had gas for like, the whole of the first half? But that turned out to be him struggling with the guilt of losing his master to the villain?”

“Ok...” Lance nodded, “I was still pretty sure he had gas though. You remember when the eleven other warriors of the sacred storm arrived? Well, he was still pulling the gas face at the purple one.”

“I'm pretty sure he was hitting on her?” Pidge shrugged, “Though you're right, he may just have been holding back to protect her from his deadly vapours. Which would mean my _guilt_ theory goes out the window. Which means that the kaiju _wasn't_ a metaphor for his externalised guilt that he had to overcome. The Kaiju was just... _there... For no good quiznaking reason!_ Maybe it's just that the film comes from a culture so different to our own that we don't get it?”

“The action scenes though.” Lance stared, starry-eyed, “When the king of the horde pulled out that giant three bladed throwing sword ninja star thing and he was all, _Wa-chaaaaa!!_ And he cut _through_ the train! That looked _so cool!!_ ”

Pidge nodded, “Oh no doubt, the action scenes were amazing. They made almost no sense _why_ they were happening, _who_ they were happening to, or _where_ in the continuity they were happening, but they _looked_ amazing. All done with practical effects too. Model work, actual physical props, not _one_ frame was computer enhanced. Pretty impressive stuff.”

“I really didn't buy the lead guy's romantic subplot with the purple storm warrior.” Lance added, “They had like _no_ chemistry.”

“That...” Pidge laughed, “ _Romantic scene_ was needlessly gratuitous. And just _awkward_ to watch...”

“If by gratuitous you mean, that dude's butt was _way_ too high to be doing what he was supposed to be doing? Yeah. Even _I_ could tell that.” Lance paused thoughtfully as he walked out of the lobby, Pidge close behind, “Dude clearly worked out, but there was something off about that too. You think he had buttcheek implants?”

Pidge held back a snort of laughter, “It wouldn't honestly surprise me.” She looked to the poster, examining the few bits of the text she understood. Impressive she knew any really, given that they had not yet encountered the species that used it. Pidge paled, turning to Lance with a fresh expression of _my brain has broken_. “It says here, it's _a historical drama,_ Lance _. Historical drama._ And apparently, the lead guy and purple are _married!?_ ”

“Wait... You mean to say they expect us to believe that all that stuff really happened?” Then he shrugged, “Actually, that almost makes _more_ sense. If someone made a movie out of us, who the heck would believe half the stuff we've done? I refuse to believe those two are married though. That kiss at the end looked like two _dry ass_ bits of sandpaper rubbing up against each other.”

“You've got a point about the historical part. But that still doesn't excuse the lead guy's _horrible_ acting!” Pidge pulled an expressionless face, and adopted an accent almost impossible to place except as _odd._ “This is _naaht_ what my master would have _waahnted!_ Ha ha ha!” She practically growled her next criticism, “That was supposed to be a _serious_ scene! Why was he _laughing_ at all!? Does he even process emotion!?”

“I will not hit her!” Lance's face even blanker, his impersonation not so good, “I will _naht!_ Maybe we play ball instead?”

“Yes!” Pidge excitedly pointed and clicked her finger, “Right!? Aside from all the fighting and all the walking to that mountain, they played that ball game way too often! It was the third most common thing in the film! I honestly expected the big bad to _accept_ his challenge and the film would end on that stupid ball game!”

“That might have even been a better ending.” Lance grumbled, he perked up quickly though seeing an unmistakable device despite it being little more than a white box, with one curtained opening, “Hey, we should get our photos done, commemorate the occasion.” He pointed to the booth. “It's not every day you see a film so bad it makes you want to hide in the popcorn.”

“Really? You want to do that?” Pidge looked to him sceptically, “That seems quite _dateish_ of you.”

“Says the girl who used me as a pillow for the whole film, and is _still_ wearing my jacket?” Not that he was complaining about either of those things. If anything, the reality of both warmed his heart and made his mind both wander and wonder.

Pidge blushed, “That's because _it's_ comfortable and because _you_ were comfortable. Meanwhile the photo booth thing is super clichéd date nonsense. You want pictures, well I have a phone _right here_ that can also take pictures. For free.”

“Yeah, sure, but maybe it's nice to have something physical?” Lance insisted, “You know, something you can hold onto, display where you can always see it, or keep in your wallet.”

“You know you're making it sound even _more_ dateish, not _less_.” And she was glad of that honestly, maybe having a little picture of his goofy grin nearby at all times _would_ be nice, “There _is_ an element of truth to the idea of a physical picture.”

“Look, Pidge. We're in the middle of a war for the fate of the whole universe.” He looked a little crestfallen, “We've been lucky recently, things haven't been quite so crazy. Now, I don't know about you, but I think if things get harder going forward, having a little reminder of better times with my friends, it might just be a good thing, right?”

“Ok, _fine!_ ” Pidge sighed as she smiled, “But _only_ because that's a genuinely good excuse.”

“Great.” Lance smirked, “Because my _next_ plan was just to whine at you until you caved.”

“You mean that _wasn't_ what you were already doing? Could have fooled me.” Pidge drew the curtain aside, waving her hand like a flamboyant butler offering the carriage door for the princess.

Lance mocked a curtsey, taking a seat on the typically uncomfortable adjustable stool. After a second or two he turned confusedly to Pidge, “Well? You coming in?”

“No space.” Pidge looked concerned, “Maybe just take it in turns?”

Lance just patted his knees, “Hurry up, Pidge. It feels like this chair's wanting to get _intimate_ with me and it hasn't even bought me dinner first. The whole point was to get a picture _together?_ ”

“Yeah, fine.” Pidge shuffled awkwardly in, perching herself even more awkwardly on the edge of his knees. “It's just your kneecaps aren't exactly soft.”

“There's always the rest of my upper legs?” Lance blushed, “They'll _probably_ stay soft?” He blushed even harder, wishing that just for once, just _once_ he could apply just a _moment_ of thought before opening his big mouth. “Quiznak! Can I reword that?”

“Lance, you have an incredible ability to make an already awkward situation _much_ worse!” Pidge shuffled further along his thighs, stopping short of going _too far_ upward. Her skin flushed to a shade shy of the Red Lion as she inadvertently grasped hard at his firm hip to steady herself. One way or another, her mind was once again going to places she would rather _not_ go to. At least, not in public and certainly not this close to Lance in public. “Can we just do this stupid picture thing?”

Silently, they stared at the screen ahead, letting the flash bathe the booth before the preview appeared. They stared back at their own digital reflections, their expressions just as awkward as they imagined they would be. Even worse perhaps, for the strained smiles on their faces. Lance sighed, tapping a few buttons seemingly at random. A countdown appeared on the screen, moments after the preview disappeared into an animated trash can. “Sorry in advance.” Lance whispered.

Pidge's eyes widened in sudden shock. Ten little sensations rapidly running over her stomach. Even through the fabric of her usual top, their undesirable effect was obvious. Her lips quivered, her body shaking as she tried to resist. _Tickling._ That was low. Lance would _pay_ for tickling. He would pay in kind. She finally caved with a riotous peal of laughter as the camera flashed a new photo. Lance however was not immune to his own assault. It took a little awkward bending of hands to reach, made all the more difficult by her squirming and laughter. However, as he bristled at the touch, it was obvious she had reached the target, a spot just beneath his armpits. A place he had foolishly admitted to being _extremely_ ticklish. Pidge began her own assault, Lance's face immediately scrunching up into a quivering mass of wobbling resistance. He lasted less than a tick before he was reduced to a giggling and struggling mess.

Hurriedly standing, awkwardly moving away, the camera flashed again and Lance raised his hands defensively. “Truce!” He desperately pleaded, “Tickle truce, Pidge, tickle truce! _Please?_ ”

Pidge smiled, eyes alight still from the laughter despite the breathless aches, “Lance, did you know you've still got a straw wrapper in your hair? How long has that _been_ there?” She raised herself a little higher in the seat, gently brushing her fingers through his short, dark hair. It was softer than she'd expected and she had always expected it would be soft anyway. As the wrapper fell, she was reluctant to withdraw. The booth camera flashed once more.

“Quiznak.” Lance grumbled, “Only one more I think. Got an idea?”

Pidge nodded, “Always. And in this case...” She slipped off her glasses, setting them on his face. “I'm Lance...” Pidge adopted a cheesy grin and a slightly too deep tone, “Your _fighter pilot_...”

“I _do not_ sound like that!” Lance adjusted the bridge of the glasses, sitting cross legged on the floor of the booth, “Well, I'm short enough now, just need to know a few more sciencey words.” He scratched his head, “Quarks.” He decided upon with a truly awful attempt at Pidge's voice, “Quarks and Bosons and Bisons and Bovines!”

“Just look at the camera and leave the smarty pants stuff to Pidge.” Smiling broadly, she gave her best flirty Lance pose for the last camera flash. She gently removed her glasses tipping his head back against her bare knees in the process, “Bosons, Bisons and _Bovines?_ I swear that sometimes you do it on purpose.” Replacing her glasses, she gazed down to him.

“I think I could get used to being down here on your level.” Lance's warm smile confirmed his honest tone, “And oddly enough, your knees sort of _are_ comfy. Is that weird?”

“Just a little. But if you _weren't_ just a little weird, then you wouldn't be my Lance.” Pidge's attention was drawn to the four previewed photos on the screen. “Some of these turned out a little odd.”

Lance nodded in agreement, “I like this first one a _lot_ though. I mean sure, I had to tickle it out of you. But that smile's awesome.” He sighed softly, “Actually, I look pretty perky too. This one's a keeper.”

“Sure is.” Pidge agreed, pressing the screen gently to confirm the selection in a green rectangle. “Four's a good one too.” Examining it closer, Lance had angled her glasses to catch the light of the photo flash perfectly, the smile on his face was one of both pride and mischief. Even though his fingers were in totally the wrong positions for optimal performance, he was clearly midway through miming a hack on a set of imagined holographic panels. The position also, Pidge noticed, emphasised his torso which was far from a bad thing, “You even managed to make my manic mid-hacking face look _cute_. It's probably the smile. Do I really look so pleased with myself?”

“Oh yeah.” Lance confirmed adding teasingly, “ _All the time_ , but especially when you're hacking.” He dodged the first corrective tap to the skull, only to whip himself into the second. Pidge's Lance pose was incredibly cute, he realised. The outward pointed finger guns, slightly pouted lips, the cheeky curve of a smile and the wink. “You'd make a pretty good Lance.”

“Thanks for that, but I'm sure I couldn't compete with the original.” Pidge playfully ruffled his hair, a smile of realisation lighting her features up as he looked up in a cute little pout, “Huh. I can see why you do this to me all the time now.” She tapped the impersonation picture to confirm it and moved to tap another.

“Woah, hold up!” Lance intercepted her outstretched hand with his own. Pidge withdrew from his soft touch in an instant. Lance found the softness of her skin remarkable, “You sure you don't moisturise?” He mumbled before returning to the moment, “Sorry, just. Don't select that one. It makes me look really goofy.”

“Well, the camera can't change reality.” Pidge ran her gaze over the preview of the picture, it was Lance taking up most of the frame, mid-escape from her tickles of retaliation. She was smiling like a cat toying with their prey, which suited of course, but that wasn't what drew her attention. His back was to the camera, his lean and toned back, the cut of his shoulders visible through not quite straining but certainly _taut_ fabric. Her gaze fell lower. The honesty of his jeans, again on display. “I actually like it for the goofy smile, there's a _truth_ to it.” The slightly goofball smile was cute, sure, but it was hardly the reason she had to have this one. “And obviously with your butt right up in the frame, you must be _making an ass of yourself?_ ”

“ _Fine._ ” Lance huffed, “Have your fun at my expense.”

“I intend to. Hopefully for a good deal longer.” Pidge tapped the photo with an innocent smile.

“Well, I guess this one must be you fishing out the straw wrapper.” He smirked, “Though, if you look at it the right way. Hey, it _almost_ looks like you're about to pull me in closer.” Lance laughed nervously, “Almost looks like you're about to kiss me.”

“It does not!” Pidge frowned as she examined it. Hand against the side of his face, her expression looking as though she were gazing up at him, her lips slightly parted mid some word or other. Quiznak, it totally _does_ look like that.

“Are we looking at the same picture?” Lance tapped it with a grin. Before Pidge could undo the action, the booth had already started printing 2 sets of the photos, “I could totally convince people that's _exactly_ what's going on.”

“Sure you could.” Pidge agreed, “But, if you're particularly attached to your limbs and _other extremities,_ you won't.”

Lance shook his head, “You wouldn't hurt me _that_ badly, Pidge. Bruise, beat, break bones, sure. But limbs?”

“Oh no, I'd never do such a thing to my friend.” She smirked, “ _Shiro and Matt_ though?”

“Yeah, true.” Lance shrugged, before grabbing the printed pictures. They were each slightly larger than his palm and had turned out very nicely. He handed Pidge her pile of four, catching the smile on her lips, “Not regretting this so much now, are you?”

Pidge took a lingering look at her favourite of the four, the two of them smiling together. “No, Lance.” She yawned mid sentence and stretched her arms outward, slowly manoeuvring herself free of the booth, “Not regretting anything about the day. Well, maybe wasting time on Coran's stupid goo.” She placed the pictures gently into her bag.

“You getting sleepy?” Lance glanced to one of the many Space Mall clocks and realised a few of the stores were in the midst of closing up. “Huh. Probably need to call it a quintant anyway, places are shutting.”

“Well, after the temporary boost from the sugary and caffeinated stuff, comes the _crash_ from the same.” Pidge shuffled along and cleared her throat softly, “...” She asked a mumbled series of words so quietly that Lance could mistake it for the breeze.

Lance looked back to her, “I got the crash part, not the second part.” He paused, noticing the obvious weariness in her eyes punctuated by another yawn, “You ok?”

Pidge sighed, “This is going to sound _lame_ to say out loud. I'm a Paladin of Voltron, hero and Defender of the Universe. But I'm also getting sleepy, far too much blood is in my sugar and caffeine system, my feet hurt and so do my legs from running about trying to find that stupid goo.” She gritted her teeth, swallowed her pride, “Could I... _maybe_ get a piggy back...?”

Lance's eyes lit up, a massive grin over his face, “Only if I can call it a _Pidgeyb -_ ”

“No.” Pidge interrupted with a curt snap, “No you may _not_ call it that.”

Lance's face drooped to a genuine sadness. Widening and wavering his eyes, tilting his head to one side, “ _Please Pidgey?_ ”

Pidge grunted, “ _Fine_. Damn your quiznaking _weaponised_ puppy-dog eyes!”

Lance fist-pumped in victory with a hiss of, “Yes!” He knelt down in front of his weary companion, “One...” He paused deliberately, grinning and slowly stretching out the word, “... _Piiidgeeeeyyybaaack..._ ” He laughed idiotically, “...Coming up!”

Nestling herself against his back and gripping his shoulders tightly, she felt the smallest surge of surprise, ticklishness and excitement as he gripped beneath her thighs and lifted her easily. She felt her heart racing, the simple act of just being here setting it off and awakening her just a touch, “Just move it, Sharpshooter.” She wrapped her arms around his torso, the tiredness returning quickly in this welcome comfortable position.

Feeling the warmth of her pressed against him, her soft breath against his neck, Lance resisted the urge to make a crack about Yoda. He decided as she nuzzled against his shoulder for comfort, her head resting gently beside his, that he would very deliberately take as much time as he could to get back to the pod.

* * * * *

It began softly enough. The lightest touch against her shoulder. It was still unwelcome and so it was ignored. The next was more insistent, a touch turned to a light prod. She groaned but still ignored it. A third, this one a light grasp and a gentle shake. Groan turned to grunt, she batted it away. Then, a soft palm to her cheek, long fingers gently brushing through her hair. She rested herself against it, a blissful smile and happy sigh as her heart fluttered. This was welcome, very welcome indeed. She felt a fingertip trail over her ear, her eyes flickering open. Yawning and stretching, her hands touched the canopy of the flight pod, her gaze fell first upon the Castle of Lions hanging silent against vast darkness and tiny pinpricks of light. Then, following the retreating hand that had awakened her, Pidge's gaze fell to her favourite smile in the universe.

“You, Pidge, are quite the heavy sleeper.” Lance spoke gently, “Didn't really want to wake you.” She had been so peaceful and looked so beautiful in the starlight, gently smiling in her sleep, “But I'm pretty sure you can't spend the night in the flight pod.”

“'S'fine.” Pidge yawned again, “I wasn't snoring was I...?”

“Like sawing logs.” Lance teased, “I thought you'd swallowed a _very tiny donkey_ that was trying to escape _._ ”

“Ha.” Pidge rolled her eyes playfully at him, brushing back a strand or two of hair from her face. Her confusion was momentary, her glasses were folded up neatly in front of her on the dashboard. She placed them gently back on.

“Figured you wouldn't want to sleep with them on. I bet the arm things would dig into your skin if you rested on them.”

Pidge began to put the pieces together of the events she had slept through, “So, at some point during your crazy slow piggy ba - ”

Lance raised a finger and wagged it. His concentration however was mostly upon ensuring the flight pod continued on a steady landing trajectory or until the autopilot had kicked in at least.

Pidge sighed, “Ok. At some point during your crazy slow... _pidgeyback.._.” She corrected with a groan, “I must have fallen asleep. You carried me here, managed to gently place me in the co-pilots seat, remove my glasses and fly us back to the castle without once disturbing my rest?” She frowned.

“That's about right.” Lance confirmed, “Though you did stir a couple of times. I think you were mumbling something about the film?” He told himself that it was only his imagination that led him to believe one mumble had featured the word _Lance_ whispered softly as a tiny inward gasp. The simply breathtaking smile of deep joy that followed however, he had not imagined. “I just didn't want to wake you. Hardest part was that I couldn't put my flight jams on.”

“Well.” Pidge's expression growing ever more confused, “Usually the _slightest_ thing will wake me up. High alert, y'know? In case of some emergency, in case someone's touching my stuff. I've caught Coran trying to clean up what he thought was junk several times in the middle of the night, he quickly got the message when I started adding booby traps.” Pidge grinned at the memory of the ginger Altean frazzled from a light electric jolt, “So the idea that you managed all of that and I didn't wake up _once_ is a little odd. I must have been really _really_ tired.” Or, she realized almost immediately, she had simply felt so safe with him that she _could_ just rest without a single care. Her heart began to flutter for what may have been the millionth time that day.

The flight pod came to a halt with a small shudder. Lance flicked a few holographic panels, the craft powering down with a soft whirring as canopy opened and particle barriers faded. “Maybe you just knew you could sleep soundly with Sharpshooter over here watching your back?” His tone implied a joke of course, but he couldn't help but hope, “Oh, actually for _no particular reason at all_ , do you think you could ignore the cargo back there?” He handed Pidge her bag, “Please?”

Pidge disembarked with a smile, dutifully ignoring the rest of the overstuffed flight pod. The oaky and waxen smell announced him before she really registered that Coran was stood beside the pod looking just a little put out. He was certainly looking more tired than she had expected. She rummaged through her bag and tossed the tube at him. “Catch. One wild goose.”

Coran stumbled a little as he juggled the tube between his hands. “Wild...what...?” He stared at it in confusion for a while then a pin dropped, his eyes lighting up in understanding, “Yes! Of course, number five! This'll be that terribly important gloop to fix the circuit boards on the Hyperbolic Phase Inductor! Good job!”

Pidge shook her head. “Not the Hyperbolic Phase Inductor.”

“Of course, silly me!” Coran forced a laugh, “The...Electron Descrambler Array...that was it!”

Pidge shook her head. “Nope.”

“The Gyroscopic Nano Recombobulator?” She shook her head as Lance stepped out of the pod, “The Gyroscopic Nano _Dis_ combobulator!” Another shake of the head, the two Paladins slowly leaving, “Well then it _has_ to be the Paralaxial Binary Coupler!” A more distant shaking of the head, “The Thunderan Samoflange Baffler? The Programmable Particle Chamber?”

“Nope and nope!” Pidge laughed.

Lance called, “Pretty sure it was a magna...something...?”

“Right you are lad, it was microfractures in the magnatomic wave compensator!! Good job, that was going to bug me!”

“Sure thing Coran!” Lance shouted back, “Maybe you could grab those bags for me? Thanks!”

Coran stared into the pod, the majority of it stuffed with boxes, bags and bits. Twirling his moustache thoughtfully, he thought aloud, “Well... It's actually not _quite_ as much as I'd expected he'd get. Though it's still going to take a few journeys. Oh to be young and dumb and falling in love...”

By now far from the flight pod hangar, Lance walked alongside Pidge. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them, frequently stolen glances and shared looks of contentment and ease. Lance had the wild notion to reach out his hand to gently grasp hers, if only to see how she might react to it. He found himself only gently bumping against the back of her hand. Each whispered an apology to the other, bashfully pretending it had been an accident. In fact, the exact same thought had occurred to each of them at the same moment.

Pidge wasn't certain that being escorted back to her room was strictly necessary, but still it somehow felt right all the same. Truth be told, she was reluctant to allow the day to end, even as her tired eyes fought against her. Truth be told, she was hoping for a very particular gesture to wish her good night. She knew it was her tired mind concocting nonsense, but still, it was a nonsensical little fantasy she was quite keen to see come true. Would he bend down to her, or would she she tiptoe to him? Or both? Would he simply boldly lift her into his arms? Maybe she'd just have to pull the idiot in herself? That seemed a likely scenario. If it weren't for the fact that the idea of doing so made her stomach flip acrobatically. They had stopped, Pidge suddenly realised. She was stood outside her door, Lance nervously rocking on his feet in front of her.

“I...had a lot of fun today...” Lance shyly admitted, obviously looking to find the same reply echoed.

“Copy and paste that, Lance...” Pidge knew her nerdy little references always provoked a smile from Lance, so why not take advantage of that? “Maybe we can find the time to do it again...? Or make the time...?”

“I'd really... _really_ like that...” He feigned a laugh if only to make his next question seem less serious, “Who knows... Maybe...”

Pidge smiled kindly, “Go on...”

“Well, maybe we could even call it a real _date_ next time?” Lance shrugged, another laugh trying to play it off as just a joke, just a little tease. “ _Way_ stranger things have happened...if that movie really was historically accurate...”

“Like you said... Who knows...? But, never say _never_ I guess.” Pidge smiled at his surprised expression. “Oh, before you go get your beauty sleep... I...have something for you...” Pulling a box from a bag still at her shoulder, Pidge handed it over to Lance.

Still a little stunned, by _never say never,_ Lance just about managed to ask, “Wait... So...what's this for...?” He opened the box gently, greeted by a statue about the same size as his Bayard. He gently pulled it free of it's cardboard former home. Pidge took the box from him, another piece of collected junk that she would probably use to collect yet more junk.

“A small thank you, that's all.” Pidge found herself kicking idly at dust on the floor that simply didn't exist, “You know, for today, yesterday. Last week. Last month probably. Just, for being _Lance_ in general. For being my best friend. It's a little bit silly. But I had the weirdest feeling you'd appreciate it...”

Lance turned the masterfully crafted figurine over and over in his hands. It depicted a comical looking sky-blue shark stood on it's back fins, a rifle extremely close to the one formed by his Red Bayard in design held at the trigger and braced awkwardly in it's front flippers. It looked as though it was trying, despite the limitations of it's sideways eyes, to use the scope to take a shot. The circular black plinth on which it stood read, ' _Sharkshooter_ ' in a deliberately much too serious font and in the same sky blue colour as the figure. He looked to Pidge in wonder.

“You know, because you've got that weird thing about wanting to wake up with a psychic shark instead of psychic mice if you had to use a healing pod long term. And, _Sharp_ shooter, _Shark_ shooter. Everybody likes puns, right? And it's based on _Left Shark_ if a meme that _ancient_ means anything to you? I'm sure it doesn't, but I guess it reminded me of you in a weird way...”

“Pidge...” Lance's tone was awed, “Did you _make_ this for me...?”

“I...well...sort of?” Pidge shrugged, “I _designed_ it anyway, it was a 3D printer that made it... I guess you could say I made the _design_ for it to print so... I guess...yes...?” She continued to nervously ramble, “But it's just a little computer modelling project I've been tinkering with for a while... Tried to make my own 3D printer for it, well, not _just_ for this but it'd make a good proof of concept because of the level of fine detail on the rifle... Anyway, I couldn't _quite_ get the print quality necessary on something made from nothing but junk...so it's just been sitting on my laptop doing nothing for the past few months, just waiting to get itself printed... I lucked out today, found a place in the space mall, so now he exists I guess...”

“Months...?” Lance pondered.

“Maybe longer... Probably longer now I think about it... Might be mixing up my months and my Phoebs... That doesn't usually happen... Is it warm in here all of a sudden...?” She looked away, “It was supposed to be an apology...for...something I said that upset you... You never _said_ it upset you, but I could tell it did and it made me feel _awful..._ But every time I tried to say anything I just clammed up, felt it was stupid to bring it up after all that time... Wow, it's all coming out now though, right...?”

Lance frowned, “Pidge, I... I don't know that I even remember what you said...”

“The... _goofball_ comment...? Back before Beta Traz...?” She looked guilty even now.

“Yeah...” Lance nodded, “I do remember I guess...”

“Lance, listen... I worded it badly, you took it... Well, honestly you took the only way you really could... But what I _meant_ was you keep the team's spirits up with your sense of humour... It just...came out wrong...” Her guilty expression intensified, “It just came out really _really_ wrong... Open mouth, insert foot...”

Lance smiled, “So to say sorry for that you designed me little Sharkshooter here...?”

Pidge nodded. “Yeah...every time I see this shark design...he just makes me smile and he doesn't even need to try...”

“And...that's why he reminds you of _me_...?” Lance blushed, “Your favourite goofball, keeping everyone's spirits up...?”

Pidge nodded “Plus the....shark thing....” She was trying to force away a blush. “And...blue...”

“Important question now though... Do you think his rifle makes more of a Pow! Pow! Pow! Or more of a Ba-Choo! Ba-Choo! Ba-Choo! Kind of noise when it fires...?” Lance's kind smile lit up his face, “Now, whilst _Pow_ seems more me... When it comes to space gun noises, Ba-Choo's always been the cutest...”

“My vote's for Ba-Choo in that case.” Pidge felt some of her tension fade with a slight laugh.

“You even had him made in what feels like a pretty indestructible material...” Lance noted, gently throwing it upward and catching it again, “I bet it'd even _bounce..._ ”

“Because I figured you'd want him on Red's _dashboard_...” Pidge shook her head, “Just don't test the bounce theory...”

“I was just going to say because you know I'm a klutz, but now you mention it... I think that _is_ where I'll keep him... If Red's ok with it... Hated the idea of fluffy dice...so did blue...” He shrugged, “You know what, maybe I'll spare Red the awkward psychic mind meld thing and just keep him in my room... He can be my own little mascot, cheering me on and cheering me up on game nights. Something to make me smile in the morning when I wake up and in the evening when I'm beat by a rough day...” He smiled thankfully, Pidge could have almost sworn there was a waver in his tone, “Thank you Pidge, he's awesome...” He added after a moment, “And, though I may have said this already... I want you to know, I really do mean it... _You_ are awesome too...”

“You're welcome, but it's really no big deal...” She smiled, trying to compose herself given the confirmation that Lance thought of her as _awesome_ , “And thank you... Especially because, I know _exactly_ what you were up to today, Lance... Wasn't exactly rocket science to piece it together... And it's not like I don't appreciate it...I _do_...” Her twisting stomach and racing heart conspired with her mind and eyes. The brain replayed _you are awesome_ over his smile. The eyes drank in the sight of every inch of him, from soft scruffy hair to long toned legs. “I do... But... I don't really _want_ to make a big deal about tomorrow... It’s just another day in space. Far away from home... Can you promise me you won't make it a big deal...?"

“No, I can't promise that..." He smiled apologetically, “It may not be a big deal to you, but to all of us it totally is. You see Pidge, 15 years and 368 days ago tomorrow - because we shouldn't forget the leap years right? - you started your life. Maybe it's selfish, but in a way it's like, _you're_ the real gift, to all of us. We're all just thanking you for being part of our lives. For existing... To me that's a pretty big deal. So no, no promise. I would only end up breaking it... And you should know by now that I do _not_ break promises... Especially not the ones I make to you...”

Pidge fell silent, felt powerless before his kind smile and blunt honesty. Stunned by the fact he obviously had given this some considerable thought. Given _her_ some considerable thought. How else would he have correctly factored in the leap years? The warmth in her heart spread through her growing smile.

“I know...” Lance shrugged, “That was all a little cheesy... But still true...”

“It was...” She nodded, “But in the best way... Good night you big dork...” Taking Lance into a tight hug, feeling his arms likewise envelop her, his warmth spreading through her, she found herself gazing upward. His smile was so inviting, the hammer of her heart and the sway of nerves alike urged her to take that invitation. Panic settled in, yet more heat flashing to her cheeks at the thought of it, to pull him closer, to just ki... “Katie!” She blurted.

Lance stared blankly for a second, “Pidge, I know I'm pretty and all, but I always figured if I'd been a girl I'd probably be a _Lauren,_ a _Lana_ or maybe a _Lorelei..._ ”

“No... _My_ name... It's Katie.” She explained, “Remember that earlier... _or_...? As in, Pidge is fine... _Or...?_ Well, I guess I just pushed that door open a little more... But, you have to promise me Lance, this stays between you and me. You _will_ call me _Pidge_ around everyone else. Not negotiable.”

Lance nodded, “No problem at all...” He paused before adding almost in awestruck reverence, “... _Katie_...” the sound of it brought a warm smile to his heart and to his lips, “It's cute, but also kinda feels like it kicks ass... It suits you...”

Pidge, _Katie_ , was struck by how right her name sounded as Lance said it aloud, like it was always supposed to be intoned by his voice and his alone. She was still in his arms, not wanting to leave them ever again. There was a sudden realigning of her basic perception of reality, an epiphany prompted by beautiful blue eyes gazing down to her. Eyes gazing to her with an inner glow she so wanted to believe was admiration. Eyes she knew without question that she could gaze back into forever and never grow tired of them. _Forever_. The struggle to deny this feeling was now impossible. Quiznak, it was so much more than a stupid crush. Always had been. Always would be. “It suits you too...” The almost nonsense tumbled from her mouth.

“Come again...?” Lance's tone wasn't the mocking she had anticipated, just a gentle question, humming softly against her scalp. He was resting his head upon hers now, she could feel his soft warm breathing parting a wave of auburn strands. The scent of her hair was much like last night, though now mingled with the distant scents of the Space Mall, of cinema snack food, even the slightest hint of his own cologne lingered. Lance remembered again the utter peace of her head resting to his shoulder in the darkened theatre, he suspected he would never forget it.

“I...” Pidge wanted two small and powerful words, two terrifyingly _risky_ words to follow, but she didn't dare, “I was trying to say...that I like the way it sounds...when _you_ say it...”

“You do, huh...?” Lance chuckled softly, the gentle ripple of the laughter was so soothing, “In that case... Goodnight and sweet dreams...” He moved to whisper soft as a breath toward her ear, “ _Katie_...”

Hearing it again, she had expected the impact of it to lessen. She had hoped it would. But it still made her _melt_ damn it! The urge to retreat was by now overwhelming, heat raising from her face, an embrace she had no desire to leave but equally no choice, or she knew she'd say something she'd regret. She reluctantly pulled away. “GnightLancesleepwellbyethankyoubye!” Her door sliding shut as the string of syllables tumbled out.

Lance knocked gently, “Pidge...?” He spoke softly, “ _Katie..._?” He smiled, “Aren't you forgetting something?”

The door opened a tiny crack, Lance's jacket was silently shoved through before it closed again.

“Never say never, huh?” Lance whispered to himself, feeling dizzy with barely contained happiness. He reached an outstretched hand to her door. He could just knock again. Hold her again. It felt almost certain that she would let him. He could stay there, just holding her again for as long as she'd let him. It would be incredible. Lance soon realised it would not be possible. Coran, his face furious and flustered, was grappling with some of Lance's shopping. Lance realised with an internal groan that he was about to help. Especially considering that a great deal of it should be in the Blue Hangar bay. Coran would not be happy about that. Lance gave one last, long and lingering gaze to Pidge's, to _Katie's_ door before finally wandering to the struggling Altean.

* * * * *

The ordeal of the shopping shifting was over. Lance, growing steadily more weary, flopped against his door, only to be met with the frown of his pal, the yellow and constantly smelling of baking paladin. “And _what_ Quiznaking time do you call this young man!?” Hunk smiled as his teasing became obvious. He was never good at pretending to be angry, even for the shortest of times. “I send you out for _one_ thing and you come back in the middle of the night. It's that _Pidge_ girl isn't it? I _knew_ that she was going to be a bad influence on my Little Lancey Lance.”

Lance raised a hand to pause Hunk, before rummaging in his room. After a short time, he handed over the much needed box of supplies. “Here. One parcel from Sal. I know I've kept you waiting, buddy, but don't worry, I'll help you get everything ready even if I have to miss my beauty sleep.”

“That's kind of you, Lance but I'm going to need to politely and if necessary _forcefully_ decline. One, because _surely_ you want to look your best for your Widdle-Pidgey-Widgey-Woo tomorrow?” Hunk made a grab for a chunk of cheek and briefly pinched. “Hey, I'm sure she'd _kill me_ if I called her that, but how about you try? The look on her face alone would be totally worth it. Also, I'm pretty sure that if _you_ said it, you'd be let off with just an affectionate maiming.”

Lance rubbed his cheek, convinced Hunk missed his calling as a doting mother. “And two?”

“Two, you're a disaster of a sous-chef. No offence, but you remember that time you mistook a tenderising hammer for a garlic press? Because I do. We all do.”

Lance frowned at that, “You guys really _do_ keep a list.” He grumbled beneath his breath, “Hunk, I didn't _mistake_ anything. I figured the hammer would be quicker.”

“You gave Coran a black eye.”

“Which _healed_ in like a day! And it gave him an excuse to wear an eyepatch! You _know_ he likes wearing an eyepatch!”

“Whilst that _is_ true, I think I'll take the risk of having the kitchen to myself.”

Lance shrugged, “Your loss man.” He pulled two particular items from a bag just behind his door, “Think you could do anything with two extra ingredients?” He smiled nervously, “Short notice again... But, y'know... For Pidge...?”

“For _who_...?” Hunk chuckled.

Lance sighed, “For my _Widdle-Pidgey-Widgey-Woo...?_ That what you wanted...?”  
  
Hunk regarded the packet and the jar with curiosity, “You're lucky I assumed you'd do something like this and prepared accordingly. Good find, though I doubt the rest of us will get a look in. Sure, I'll do it, but only if you answer me something honestly. Between being your best bud and you being not so hot at the whole _lying thing_ I'll know.” He gave Lance a kind, reassuring smile, “Lance, just between you and me... _Pidge..._? You're _in_ _love with her_ , aren't you?” Lance was caught in Hunk's probing, yet teasing gaze, his smile now a mischievous smirk.

After a long pause, a clearing of his throat and badly disguising his blush as being calm, Lance said, “You know what, Hunk...?” He laughed uneasily. “Yeah... Yeah, maybe you might just be on to something...”

Hunk's squee of utter joy could be heard throughout the castle that night.

 


End file.
